Chapter 13 - THE GARAGE
The police moved fast.
One officer stayed with Vanessa. The other went through the kitchen toward the garage.
I remained on the porch with Marcus.
"Do not go in," Marcus said.
"I'm not."
We could hear shouting from inside.
"Hands where I can see them!"
Then a crash.
Then Trent yelling, "I live here!"
He did not.
A minute later, they brought him out in handcuffs.
He had a crowbar in the trunk of his car, not in his hands, but he had been carrying a small shredder and a grocery bag filled with documents.
My documents.
Copies of tax returns.
A scan of my passport.
Old company records.
Mom's bank statements.
And several pages with practiced versions of my signature.
Vanessa saw the bag.
"Those are his," she shouted, pointing at Trent. "I don't know anything about that!"
Trent stopped walking.
Slowly, he turned his head toward her.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Don't talk," the officer said.
But the damage was done.
Trent laughed once, bitterly.
"She gave me the key."
Vanessa went silent.
"Trent," she warned.
"You said Daniel would sign! You said we'd be gone before he figured it out!"
"Stop talking," the officer repeated.
Trent finally did.
Vanessa looked at me.
The mask was gone.
No sweetness. No tears. No wounded-wife act.
Only hate.
"You set me up."
"I came home early," I said. "That's all it took."
The officers did not arrest Vanessa that night on every allegation. Real investigations do not move at movie speed. But they took statements, preserved evidence, and told her the protective order involving Mom was enforceable immediately.
My attorney arrived before midnight.
Vanessa packed a suitcase under supervision and left to stay elsewhere while her lawyer dealt with the next steps.
At the front door, she stopped.
"You think you're going to keep all that money?"
Rachel stepped between us verbally before I could answer.
"Do not discuss finances with my client."
Vanessa ignored her.
"Half of everything," she said to me. "That's what wives get."
Rachel smiled without warmth.
"Not everything is marital property. And stolen money has a way of complicating negotiations."
Vanessa's face tightened.
She walked out.
I thought that was the end of the worst night of my life.
Then Mom called from Rachel's aunt's house.
She was crying again.
"Danny," she said. "I remembered something."
"What?"
"The papers Vanessa made me sign. One of them wasn't about money."
I sat down.
"What was it about?"
May you like
Mom's voice broke.
"It said I agreed you had hurt me."
