Chapter 10 - CAROLINE’S RECORDING
Maria plugged the flash drive into a laptop that wasn’t connected to the internet.
There were eleven files.
Most were spreadsheets.
One was audio.
She clicked it.
A woman’s voice filled the room.
Young.
Nervous.
“If something happens to me, Donna knows why.”
Caleb stopped breathing.
The recording continued.
“My mother has been moving investor money through accounts opened under other people’s names. Lindsay knows. She says it’s temporary, but it’s not.”
Joyce whispered, “Oh my God.”
The woman on the recording was Caroline.
Donna’s older daughter.
“I found transfers linked to Harold Bennett. He threatened to expose them years ago. Mom says his family still has money. She keeps saying people who owe us eventually pay.”
My hands went cold.
People who owe us.
Harold had lost money to them.
Yet Donna believed we owed her.
Caroline continued.
“Lindsay has been looking at Harold’s son online. His name is Caleb. I told her to leave him alone.”
Caleb stood abruptly.
The chair fell backward.
“No.”
I reached for him.
He pulled away, not from me, but from the words.
The recording went on.
“Mom says marrying into the family would solve everything. Lindsay laughed. I don’t think she was joking.”
Caleb walked out.
I followed him to the porch.
He leaned against the railing.
“I married a woman who targeted me.”
“We don’t know how much of that became real.”
“She asked about Dad the night we met.”
“I know.”
“She married me.”
“I know.”
“She used my name.”
“I know.”
He turned.
“Did she ever love me?”
That question broke me.
Because no mother can answer it.
“I don’t know.”
He cried then.
Quietly.
Shoulders shaking.
I held him.
For the first time in years, he let me.
Inside, the recording ended.
Maria found another document on the drive.
A draft email Caroline had apparently written to a federal investigator but never sent.
It described false companies.
Stolen identities.
Loan applications.
Investor money.
And one sentence stood out.
Lindsay says the easiest people to use are family because they don’t ask for paperwork.
I thought about my $87,500.
No lawyer.
No contract.
No conditions.
Because he was my son.
Because I thought love was enough.
Maria closed the laptop.
“Whoever sent this drive had access to Caroline’s files.”
“Could Caroline still be alive?” Joyce asked.
Bob shook his head.
“She died.”
“How?”
Bob looked at Maria.
Then at me.
“An overdose.”
I frowned.
“The obituary said car accident.”
“Donna told people it was an accident because she was ashamed.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed.
“Was there an investigation?”
“I don’t know.”
Then my phone buzzed.
One text.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
You found Caroline’s files. Stop now.
Below that was a picture.
My house.
May you like
Taken from across the street.
Someone was watching us.
