Chapter 8 - SOMEONE WAS WATCHING ME
Detective Reyes told me not to go home alone.
So I didn’t.
My friend Jenna, another paramedic, stayed with me.
At 1:20 a.m., we sat in my kitchen drinking terrible coffee while patrol officers drove past every hour.
Jenna stared at the dent in the headboard upstairs.
“She threw that?”
“Yes.”
“And Andrew defended her?”
“Yes.”
Jenna shook her head.
“I’m going to say something you won’t like.”
“Go ahead.”
“You didn’t lose a marriage.”
I looked at her.
“You escaped a system.”
I didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
At 8:00 the next morning, my doorbell camera caught a man in a baseball cap walking past the house twice.
Police identified him.
A private investigator.
Hired by Andrew’s attorney.
Legal.
Unpleasant.
But legal.
Rebecca called the attorney immediately.
“You tell your client that following Claire during an active fraud investigation is a spectacularly stupid choice.”
The investigator disappeared after that.
Then the financial records began arriving.
They were worse than the affair.
Andrew had opened a separate account eighteen months earlier.
Thousands of dollars from joint funds had moved into it.
Hotel bills.
Gifts.
Trips.
Jewelry.
A lease deposit on an apartment I had never seen.
Melissa called me.
“That apartment was supposed to be ours.”
I closed my eyes.
“He rented it?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why didn’t you move in?”
“He kept delaying.”
Daniel’s voice came from somewhere behind her.
“Because he was waiting for Claire’s money.”
Melissa went silent.
I asked,
“Did Andrew ever mention a specific amount?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“About four hundred thousand.”
My pulse jumped.
That was roughly the equity he thought he could access.
At noon, police executed a search warrant on Andrew’s work laptop connected to the suspected forged application.
By three, Detective Reyes called.
“We found drafts.”
“What drafts?”
“Multiple versions of your signature.”
I sat down.
“How many?”
“Twenty-seven.”
I felt physically sick.
Twenty-seven attempts to imitate my name.
Then Reyes continued.
“There’s something else.”
I gripped the phone.
“What?”
“A document titled ‘Timeline After Separation.’”
“What does it say?”
She paused.
“It outlines when you would be removed from the house.”
“Removed how?”
“Through an emergency protective petition claiming you were mentally unstable and dangerous.”
I laughed once.
I couldn’t help it.
“They were going to accuse me of being dangerous?”
“It appears so.”
Then Reyes added,
“And there is a note next to August 10.”
My throat tightened.
“What note?”
“Trigger event.”
The pot.
The screaming.
The birthday.
It had all been engineered.
But underneath the timeline was another date.
August 15.
Five days after my birthday.
May you like
Beside that date, Andrew had written two words.
TRANSFER PROPERTY.
