Chapter 6: The Money in the Little Blue Account
“Whose money?”” Marcus asked.
Tasha looked at the children, then at the message on her phone.
“I can't explain it here.””
“You've said that three times.””
“Marcus, please.””
“No. You need to tell me whether somebody is in danger.””
She shook her head quickly.
“No one's in danger.””
“Then tell me.””
Tasha's lips trembled.
Finally, she whispered, “It's Jordan's money.””
Marcus stared at her.
“What do you mean, Jordan's money?””
“The account his grandmother opened for him.””
Marcus looked toward the little boy sitting beside the suitcase.
Jordan was studying a loose thread on his backpack, unaware that his mother had just admitted something that could change his life.
“How much?”” Marcus asked.
Tasha covered her mouth.
“How much, Tasha?””
“Almost eighteen thousand dollars.””
Marcus stepped back.
For a moment, he seemed unable to speak.
Then he said, “You took eighteen thousand dollars from your son's account?””
“I borrowed it.””
“Did you ask him?””
“Marcus, he's seven!””
“Did you ask the person who manages the account?””
Tasha looked away.
“It's complicated.””
“No, it's not. Either you had permission or you didn't.””
She started crying harder.
“I was going to put it back.””
“When?””
“Soon.””
“With what money?””
Tasha looked at him.
That was the answer.
Marcus rubbed both hands over his face.
“You told me you were paying off credit cards. You told me your aunt was helping you. You told me the children were taken care of.””
“I thought I could fix everything before anybody noticed.””
“That's not fixing anything. That's hiding it.””
Tasha lowered her head.
The airport announcement system crackled overhead. A family walked past carrying matching travel pillows. Somewhere nearby, a toddler laughed.
The ordinary sounds made the moment feel unreal.
Marcus sat down beside Jordan.
“Buddy, do you want something to eat?””
Jordan shrugged.
“I'm not hungry.””
“Would you like some water?””
A small nod.
Marcus went to the nearest kiosk and returned with bottled water and a packet of crackers. He gave Jordan the crackers and helped Nia open her juice box.
Tasha watched him.
“You don't have to do that.””
Marcus looked at her.
“They're children. They're hungry, they're confused, and they're stuck in an airport because the adults around them made bad decisions. Somebody should at least make sure they have a snack.””
Tasha wiped her face.
“I know I messed up.””
“Then stop asking everybody to pretend you didn't.””
He moved a little farther away and called Diane.
Diane was in her kitchen when Marcus called.
Evelyn had already sent her a preliminary report confirming that the documents she had reviewed did not establish a completed loan or recorded lien against the house. The attorney was continuing to check the relevant records and had advised Diane to preserve everything.
Calvin had contacted Jordan's father, David, and Nia's father, Andre. Both men were arranging to help with the children if needed.
For the first time that afternoon, Diane felt the beginnings of a plan forming.
Then Marcus told her about the money.
“Eighteen thousand dollars?”” she repeated.
“Yes, ma'am.””
“From Jordan's account?””
“That's what she told me.””
Diane gripped the kitchen counter.
“Do you know whether the account was a custodial account or a regular savings account?””
“No, ma'am. She said his grandmother opened it for him.””
“Then we need to find out who legally controls it and whether any withdrawals were authorized.””
“I agree.””
Diane glanced at the wall clock.
“Where are the children now?””
“Still at the airport. I'm staying with them while Tasha deals with the airline.””
“Thank you for that.””
“I should have asked more questions earlier.””
“Yes, you should have.””
He accepted the criticism without argument.
Then he said, “Ms. Diane, I need to tell you something about Patricia.””
Diane closed her eyes.
“What now?””
“She sent me another message.””
“Read it.””
Marcus hesitated.
“She said Tasha would return the money once the loan was approved. She also said the account belonged to the family, not Jordan.””
Diane felt cold.
“Did Patricia know about the withdrawals?””
“From the message, it sounds like she did.””
Diane walked to the table and sat down.
“Marcus, forward that message to Evelyn. Don't delete anything. Don't alter the screenshots.””
“I will.””
“And don't make any financial promises to Tasha.””
“I won't.””
“Not even if she cries.””
A quiet, uncomfortable pause followed.
Then Marcus said, “You really do know her.””
Diane looked toward the hallway.
She remembered Tasha as a little girl running through the house in mismatched socks, laughing so hard she could barely speak. She remembered the first time Tasha had called her Auntie Dee. She remembered holding her when she cried after a childhood friendship ended.
Diane had never stopped seeing that little girl somewhere inside the grown woman.
Perhaps that was part of the problem.
She had spent so many years protecting the child that she had sometimes failed to confront the adult.
“I know the parts of her I helped enable,” Diane said quietly.
“I'm trying to learn the rest.””
After the call ended, Diane sent Marcus's message to Evelyn.
Then she called Patricia.
Her sister answered with a tired sigh.
“Diane, please. I cannot do this with you all day.””
“Did you know Tasha took money from Jordan's account?””
Silence.
Diane sat perfectly still.
“Patricia?””
“I knew she was having financial problems.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
“I knew she had borrowed some money.””
“How much?””
“I don't know.””
“Did you know it was Jordan's money?””
Patricia exhaled.
“Yes.””
Diane shut her eyes.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I thought she'd pay it back.””
“With what?””
“The loan.””
“The loan she was trying to get using my house?””
Patricia didn't respond.
Diane pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“You knew about the loan, the childcare form, and the money.””
“I was trying to help her.””
“Stop saying that.””
“Diane—”
“Stop using those words as though they erase what you've done.””
Patricia's voice hardened.
“You don't understand the pressure she's under.””
“Then explain it to me.””
“She was behind on her bills. She had creditors calling. She was afraid of losing her apartment. She made a mistake.””
“Eighteen thousand dollars is not a missed electric bill.””
“I know that.””
“And putting my name on a loan application isn't a mistake. It's a decision.””
Patricia went quiet.
Diane continued.
“You helped her make it.””
“I never told her to steal from Jordan.””
“But you knew about it.””
“I thought she would fix it.””
“Everybody keeps waiting for Tasha to fix things after the damage is done. Meanwhile, the rest of us are expected to stand around and make sure she doesn't have to face the consequences.””
Patricia's voice broke.
“You think I don't feel guilty?””
“I think you feel guilty enough to cry and not guilty enough to tell the truth.””
That landed.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Patricia whispered, “She said Jordan's grandmother would never find out.””
Diane's stomach turned.
“Who is Jordan's grandmother?””
Patricia hesitated.
“You know who she is.””
Diane's heart began to pound.
“Tell me.””
“Your sister-in-law. Denise.””
Diane went still.
Denise Brooks had been married to Diane's late husband, Robert's older brother. She had helped raise Jordan during the first years of his life and had opened a savings account for him after his father lost a job.
Diane remembered Denise telling her about the account at a family barbecue.
“It isn't much yet,” Denise had said, “but I want Jordan to have something when he's old enough to make his own choices.””
Diane had promised to keep the conversation private.
She had never imagined that the money would become the center of a family crisis.
“Does Denise know?”” Diane asked.
“No.””
“Then we need to tell her.””
“Diane, please don't.””
Diane's voice sharpened.
“Why?””
“Because she'll call the police.””
Diane stared at the phone.
“Patricia, if somebody took money from my house, would you tell me to stay quiet because the person who took it might get into trouble?””
“It's different.””
“How?””
“It's family.””
Diane laughed once, bitterly.
“That's the excuse that keeps getting everybody into trouble.””
Patricia began crying.
“Please. Give Tasha until Monday.””
Diane remembered the unknown message.
Monday morning.
The deadline wasn't arbitrary. Tasha had been trying to get a loan before someone discovered the missing money.
“Why Monday?”” Diane asked.
Patricia hesitated.
Then she said, “Because Denise is meeting with her financial adviser on Monday. She's planning to transfer the account into a different investment.””
Diane's blood ran cold.
“If Denise checks the balance, she'll see the withdrawals.””
“Yes.””
“And Tasha wants to replace the money before that happens.””
“Yes.””
Diane leaned back in her chair.
The pieces were finally fitting together.
The rushed vacation.
The loan application.
The forged childcare form.
The pressure to keep Diane from contacting her attorney.
Tasha wasn't simply trying to escape her financial problems.
She was trying to get away before the consequences caught up with her.
“Patricia,” Diane said, “did you tell her I would guarantee the loan?””
“I told her you might help.””
“Did you tell her to use my name?””
“I sent her the form.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Patricia cried harder.
“I didn't think she'd go this far.””
Diane's voice softened, but only slightly.
“Neither did I.””
She ended the call.
An hour later, Denise arrived at Diane's house.
She was in her late sixties, with short natural hair and the steady, observant eyes of a woman who had spent years working in banking.
Diane had told her only that they needed to discuss Jordan's savings account.
Denise walked into the kitchen and placed her handbag on the table.
“What happened?””
Diane explained everything she knew.
She showed Denise the messages, the loan application, and the information Marcus had provided about the withdrawals.
Denise listened without interrupting.
When Diane finished, Denise removed her glasses.
“Did Tasha actually take money out of the account?””
“We're still confirming the transaction details.””
“Who has access?””
“That depends on how the account was established.””
Denise nodded slowly.
“I opened it with a small initial deposit. Later, I added more money from birthdays and family gifts. I thought the account was protected.””
“Did you give Tasha access?””
Denise's expression changed.
“I gave her permission to make deposits when she wanted to contribute. I never gave her permission to withdraw money.””
Diane reached across the table.
“Denise, I'm sorry.””
“Why are you apologizing?””
“Because this is happening in my family.””
Denise shook her head.
“Diane, if someone in my family does something wrong, that doesn't make me responsible for their decision.””
Diane looked at her.
The words sounded familiar.
Not because Diane had heard Denise say them before, but because she had spent the entire afternoon trying to believe them about herself.
Denise took out her phone.
“I'm calling the bank.””
She placed the call on speaker.
After answering the security questions, she asked the representative to review the account's recent activity.
Diane sat beside her, barely breathing.
The representative placed them on hold while she checked the transaction history.
When she returned, her voice was professional and careful.
“Ms. Brooks, I can confirm that several withdrawals were made from the account over the past six weeks.””
Denise gripped the edge of the table.
“How many?””
“Four withdrawals, totaling seventeen thousand eight hundred dollars.””
Diane closed her eyes.
Denise asked, “Were the withdrawals made in person?””
“No. They were electronic transfers.””
“Where were they sent?””
The representative read out the destination account information.
Denise wrote it down.
Then she looked at Diane.
Neither woman spoke.
Because the account number was not unfamiliar.
It belonged to an account Denise had opened years earlier to help a relative manage emergency expenses.
An account Patricia had access to.
Denise ended the call after arranging for the bank to provide the formal transaction records and explain the available steps for securing the remaining funds.
Then she turned to Diane.
“I need to ask Patricia a question.””
Diane nodded.
Denise dialed her number.
Patricia answered on the third ring.
“Denise? What's going on?””
Denise's voice was calm.
“I just spoke to the bank about Jordan's account.””
Silence.
“Patricia, seventeen thousand eight hundred dollars is missing.””
Patricia began to cry.
Denise continued.
“Did you authorize those transfers?””
“No.””
“Did Tasha?””
Patricia didn't answer.
“Patricia, I'm asking you directly. Did you help her access the money?””
A long silence followed.
Then Patricia whispered, “I only meant to help her borrow it.””
Denise closed her eyes.
Diane felt her stomach drop.
“You helped her?”” Denise asked.
Patricia sobbed.
“She said she needed it for a few weeks. She promised she'd put it back.””
“Did you make the transfers?””
“I helped her.””
“Did you make them?””
Patricia's voice became barely audible.
“Yes.””
Denise ended the call.
For several seconds, she sat motionless.
Then she looked at Diane.
“I'm contacting the bank again, and I'm going to get legal advice about what happened.””
Diane nodded.
“I understand.””
Denise's eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady.
“I love those children. I love Patricia. I love Tasha. But I will not let love become a reason to leave Jordan without the money his family saved for him.””
Diane reached for her hand.
“Neither will I.””
At that moment, Diane's phone rang.
It was Evelyn.
“I've completed the initial property-record check,” the attorney said.
“There is no evidence in the records I reviewed of a completed loan or recorded lien against your house. However, I found something else.””
Diane sat straighter.
“What?””
“The lender's application includes an additional supporting document. It appears to be a notarized statement claiming you agreed to use your property as collateral.””
Diane's mouth went dry.
“I never signed a notarized statement.””
“I know. The signature and notarial details need to be investigated. I'm sending you a copy.””
“Who submitted it?””
Evelyn paused.
“The application identifies the person who presented the paperwork.””
Diane glanced at Denise.
“Who?””
Evelyn answered.
“Patricia Brooks.””
Diane stared at her sister-in-law.
Denise's face crumpled.
And before Diane could say a word, Evelyn added, “There's one more detail. The document claims the loan was intended to cover a debt secured against your property that already existed.””
Diane's fingers tightened around the phone.
“What debt?””
Evelyn's voice turned grave.
“According to the document, your house was already being used as collateral for another loan.””
Diane looked toward the kitchen window, where the late-afternoon light fell across the quiet backyard.
For years, she had believed the house was the one thing in her life nobody could take from her.
Now she was beginning to wonder whether somebody had been trying to take it long before Tasha appeared on her porch with a suitcase.
May you like
And if Patricia had helped create the paperwork, Diane needed to know one thing above everything else.
*Had her sister forged a promise—or had she already put Diane's home at risk?*