Chapter 7: The Police Report
I didn’t touch the paper.
Not at first.
I stood in the doorway, staring at the police report sitting beside my father’s old photograph.
The apartment was dark except for the small lamp near the couch. My mother sat there with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee she wasn’t drinking.
She looked exhausted.
Not tired.
Broken.
“Mom.””
She looked up.
“You found it.””
My eyes moved from her face back to the report.
“What is this?””
She swallowed.
“A mistake I should have fixed a long time ago.””
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
“A mistake?””
My voice rose.
“Curtis’s name is on a police report, and you’re calling it a mistake?””
My mother looked down.
“Jada, please sit.””
“No.””
I stayed standing.
“I’m done sitting while everyone tells me half the truth.””
The words hit her.
She nodded slowly.
“You’re right.””
That surprised me.
My mother rarely admitted when she was wrong.
She touched the photograph of my father.
“After your father died, I couldn’t think clearly.””
I crossed my arms.
“You keep saying that.””
“Because it’s true.””
“Being hurt doesn’t make you stupid.””
Her eyes filled.
“No. But grief makes you desperate.””
The room became quiet.
I looked at the report again.
“Tell me what happened.””
My mother took a shaky breath.
“Three months after your father passed, Curtis came to me.””
“Why?””
“He said he found documents showing your father owed him money.””
I almost laughed.
“Of course he did.””
My mother closed her eyes.
“I didn’t believe him at first.””
“Then why did you sign anything?””
She looked away.
“Because he showed me paperwork.””
“Fake paperwork.””
“Yes.””
The answer was barely audible.
I walked toward the table.
“What does the police report say?””
She hesitated.
Then pushed it toward me.
I picked it up.
The paper was old.
Yellowed around the edges.
The date was twelve years earlier.
My hands moved down the page.
My eyes stopped.
*Suspected financial fraud.*
I read further.
Curtis Walker.
My father’s company.
Missing funds.
My heart pounded.
“You knew?””
My mother shook her head quickly.
“No.””
“Then why was this filed?””
“Because your father suspected something.””
I looked up.
“What?””
She wiped her face.
“Before he got sick, he told me he thought money was missing from the business.””
I froze.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“You were twelve.””
“That’s not an answer.””
She looked at me.
“You had just lost your father.””
“And you had just lost him too.””
Her lips trembled.
“I couldn’t lose you as well.””
The anger inside me softened for a second.
Just a second.
Then I remembered the years.
The money.
The lies.
“What happened after the report?””
My mother looked at the floor.
“The police investigated.””
“And?””
“Curtis convinced them it was a misunderstanding.””
“How?””
“I don’t know.””
“Yes, you do.””
She looked at me.
“I know he was good at convincing people.””
I grabbed the flash drive from my bag.
“Renee gave me this.””
My mother’s face changed.
“Renee?””
“His sister.””
She looked terrified.
“She contacted you?””
“Yes.””
“Jada, you need to stay away from her.””
I stared.
“Why?””
“Because Curtis told me she was unstable.””
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“Of course he did.””
My mother looked at the flash drive.
“What’s on it?””
“I don’t know yet.””
Her face became pale.
“Don’t watch it.””
I blinked.
“What?””
“Please.””
“Why?””
She looked at the photograph of my father.
“Because if it’s what I think it is…”
Her voice disappeared.
I stepped closer.
“What?””
She whispered:
“It might prove I helped him.””
The room went still.
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?””
My mother covered her face.
“I didn’t know.””
“Mom.””
“I didn’t know what he was doing.””
I grabbed the chair and sat.
“Start from the beginning.””
She took a long breath.
“Curtis told me your father wanted him to have control over certain accounts while he was sick.””
My eyebrows pulled together.
“But he didn’t.””
“No.””
“Did Dad sign anything?””
“No.””
“Then why did you let him?””
She looked ashamed.
“Because I trusted him.””
The answer hurt.
Not because it was surprising.
Because it was familiar.
My mother had spent years trusting the wrong person.
And I had spent years paying for it.
My phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
*“Do not let your mother delete anything. Curtis knows you have the drive.””*
I looked up.
My mother saw my expression.
“What happened?””
I showed her.
The color drained from her face.
“He knows.””
“Who?””
“Curtis.””
“How?””
She stood suddenly.
“He must have seen you with Renee.””
I grabbed the report.
“Mom, where are all Dad’s old documents?””
She froze.
“Why?””
“Because if Curtis forged paperwork, there has to be evidence.””
My mother looked toward the hallway.
Then whispered:
“There’s one place.””
“Where?””
She hesitated.
“In the storage unit.””
“What storage unit?””
“The one your father rented before he died.””
I stood.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?””
She looked at me.
“Because Curtis told me never to open it.””
A chill moved through me.
“Mom.””
“I thought he was protecting us.””
I grabbed my jacket.
“Let’s go.””
Her eyes widened.
“Now?””
“Yes.””
“But Jada—”
“No more waiting.””
I looked at the police report.
“No more letting him decide what we’re allowed to know.””
We left ten minutes later.
But when we arrived at the storage facility, we found the lock hanging open.
And on the ground beside the door was a note.
Three words.
May you like
Written in black ink.
*You’re too late.*