Chapter 7: The Account
“Hello, Evelyn.””
David's voice came through the speaker with the same smooth confidence I remembered from twenty years ago.
Older.
Deeper.
But unchanged where it mattered.
I stood beside Marcus, staring at the photograph on the laptop.
Our house.
Our street.
Our life.
All captured from somewhere outside.
Marcus reached for the phone.
David chuckled.
“Still letting your husband answer your problems for you?””
Marcus's face hardened.
“Who is this?””
“You know exactly who I am.””
“I know who you claim to be.””
“Marcus,” I whispered.
David laughed softly.
“I remember you, Evelyn. You always did have a weakness for men who thought they could protect you.””
Marcus stepped closer to the phone.
“Stay away from my family.””
There was a pause.
Then David said, “Your family became part of this long before tonight.””
Jordan stood behind us, completely still.
Tasha had moved away from the doorway.
Her eyes were fixed on the phone.
“David,” she whispered.
He heard her.
“Tasha.””
She flinched.
“You shouldn't have gone there.””
“I had to.””
“You made this worse.””
“No,” Tasha said.
“You made it worse twenty years ago.””
David's voice hardened.
“Don't test me.””
Marcus glanced at Tasha.
“Who is she?””
David answered.
“Someone who knows exactly what Evelyn did.””
I shook my head.
“I didn't steal anything from you.””
“You always say that.””
“Because it's true.””
“Then tell me where the money went.””
“I don't know.””
“You do.””
“I don't.””
The line went silent.
Then David said something that made my stomach twist.
“You had the account number.””
My eyes moved to the laptop.
The photograph.
The email.
The old memory.
A spreadsheet.
An account ending in *4721*.
I hadn't thought about that number in twenty years.
Marcus noticed my expression.
“What?””
I shook my head.
David laughed.
“There it is.””
“What's there?”” Marcus asked.
“Her memory.””
I closed my eyes.
I could see the conference room again.
A stack of ledgers.
A yellow legal pad.
A coffee stain near the bottom corner.
And one account number circled in red.
*4721.*
The account had belonged to a holding company connected to Mercer Construction.
Money had moved through it for years.
Millions.
Payments disguised as equipment purchases.
Transfers to shell companies.
Then, three days before the investigation became public, almost all of it disappeared.
I had found the transfers.
But I had never found the money.
I opened my eyes.
“I remember the account.””
Marcus looked at me.
“What account?””
“The one he thinks I took.””
David spoke immediately.
“You didn't take it.””
I stared at the phone.
“What?””
“You didn't steal the money, Evelyn.””
Marcus's expression changed.
“Then what happened to it?””
David laughed.
“That is the question, isn't it?””
Tasha stepped forward.
“David, stop.””
He ignored her.
“Evelyn, you gave the investigators the records. You assumed that made you the hero.””
“I never thought I was a hero.””
“No. You thought you were doing your job.””
“I was.””
“And you never asked where the money went after you exposed the account.””
“Because the investigators handled it.””
“No.””
His voice became colder.
“They didn't.””
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?””
“The money was transferred before they froze the accounts.””
Marcus looked at me.
“Where?””
David said, “Ask your husband.””
The room went silent.
I slowly turned toward Marcus.
He looked confused.
“What?””
David continued.
“Ask Marcus.””
Marcus stared at the phone.
“I've never had anything to do with your money.””
“I didn't say my money.””
David paused.
“I'm talking about hers.””
I looked at Marcus.
“David, what are you saying?””
“You'll find out.””
The call ended.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Marcus put the phone on the counter.
“What did he mean?””
“I don't know.””
Tasha shook her head.
“He's manipulating you.””
“I know.””
“He wants you frightened.””
“I know.””
Jordan stepped forward.
“Mom.””
I turned.
“Yeah?””
“What's account 4721?””
I stared at him.
“How did you hear that?””
“You said it.””
I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud.
Jordan looked at Marcus.
“Do you know anything about it?””
Marcus shook his head.
“No.””
Tasha took a breath.
“There is something you need to understand.””
Marcus looked at her.
“What?””
“David doesn't care about the original money anymore.””
“Then what does he want?””
“The proof.””
“What proof?””
Tasha looked at me.
“The records.””
I frowned.
“I gave everything to the investigators.””
“Not everything.””
My pulse quickened.
“What do you mean?””
Tasha's eyes dropped.
“There was a copy.””
“Where?””
“You kept it.””
“I didn't.””
“You did.””
“No.””
“You were afraid David would get access to the originals.””
I stared at her.
“How would you know that?””
“Because you told me.””
The room seemed to stop.
I had never met Tasha before tonight.
At least, I didn't think I had.
“You're lying.””
Tasha shook her head.
“You don't remember me?””
I studied her face.
Something flickered.
A woman standing outside a courthouse.
A dark green coat.
A baby carrier.
A frightened voice asking me whether I had seen David.
I took a step backward.
“Tasha…”
She nodded.
“Yes.””
“Where did we meet?””
“Twenty years ago.””
My mouth went dry.
Marcus looked between us.
“What happened twenty years ago?””
Tasha answered.
“I worked for David.””
Marcus stiffened.
“As what?””
“His bookkeeper.””
I stared at her.
“You knew about the account.””
“Yes.””
“You knew where the money went?””
“I knew where some of it went.””
“Where?””
Tasha shook her head.
“I can't tell you.””
“Why?””
“Because David wasn't the only person involved.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“Who else?””
Tasha looked at him.
“I don't know.””
“You just said someone else was involved.””
“I know.””
“Then who?””
She opened her mouth.
Stopped.
Then looked toward Jordan.
“Your son.””
Jordan frowned.
“What about me?””
“You were never supposed to be involved.””
Marcus moved between them.
“Explain.””
Tasha pointed toward Jordan's phone.
“The person who contacted him knew exactly who he was.””
Jordan's face tightened.
“Lena?””
“Yes.””
“Why me?””
“Because she was told to find you.””
“By David?””
Tasha nodded.
I felt cold.
“Why would David need my son?””
Tasha looked at me.
“Because he couldn't reach you.””
Marcus's voice was sharp.
“He reached her tonight.””
“He needed a reason to make you listen.””
I looked at Jordan.
The three hundred dollars.
The messages.
The photograph.
The email.
The girl.
None of it felt accidental anymore.
Jordan whispered, “So Lena was using me?””
Tasha shook her head.
“I don't think she wanted to.””
“What does that mean?””
“She was scared.””
“Of David?””
“Yes.””
Jordan's eyes filled with anger.
“Then why did she lie?””
“Because she had no choice.””
Marcus looked at Tasha.
“Where is she?””
“I don't know.””
“Who does?””
Tasha's face tightened.
“I might.””
“Then tell us.””
She reached into her coat.
Before she could pull anything out, a loud crash came from the kitchen.
All of us turned.
The back door had slammed open.
Marcus grabbed Jordan and pulled him behind him.
Tasha stepped backward.
I could hear my own breathing.
The kitchen was empty.
A dish towel fluttered on the floor.
The back door swung slowly in the wind.
Marcus whispered, “Stay here.””
He moved toward it.
Then stopped.
Something lay on the kitchen floor.
A small black envelope.
Marcus stared at it.
Nobody touched it.
Then Jordan whispered, “That's my handwriting.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
He pointed.
On the front of the envelope were three words.
*FOR YOUR MOTHER.*
Written in Jordan's handwriting.
Except Jordan hadn't written it.
And when Marcus finally picked it up, something slid out.
A photograph.
Not of our house.
Not of Lena.
Not of David.
It was a picture of me, twenty years younger, standing outside the courthouse.
Beside me stood a woman holding a baby.
Tasha covered her mouth.
“That baby…”
I looked at her.
“Who is she?””
Tasha's eyes filled with tears.
“My daughter.””
I stared at the photograph.
Then at Tasha.
May you like
Then at Jordan.
Tasha whispered, “And Lena is that baby.””