Chapter 5 - My Husband's Part
I didn't sleep.
At sunrise, I sat on Richard's front steps wrapped in a coat that belonged to Eric's wife and stared at a sky that looked offensively normal.
Daniel came outside.
I heard him behind me but didn't turn.
"Claire."
"Don't."
"I need to tell you something before the police find it first."
That got my attention.
I stood.
"That sentence is never followed by anything good."
He looked wrecked. I felt nothing for him.
Not yet.
"Three weeks ago, I saw a message on Mom's phone from Victor. It said, 'She heard enough to be a problem.'"
My hands went cold.
"She meant me."
"I think so."
"And you said nothing?"
"Mom told me you had been snooping through company papers. She said you were obsessed with Dad's money."
I stared at him.
"You believed that?"
"No. I mean... I didn't want to."
"That's not an answer."
He swallowed.
"I didn't ask you."
There it was.
Not a lie. Worse.
Cowardice dressed as uncertainty.
"You watched your mother accuse me of stealing," I said. "You watched her hit me. You had already seen a message saying I was a problem, and you still stood there."
His eyes filled. "I was afraid."
"So was I. I was the one on the floor."
He looked away.
I stepped closer.
"What else?"
His jaw tightened.
"Mom asked me to take five hundred dollars from Dad's desk yesterday morning. She said she thought the housekeeper was stealing and wanted marked bills to test her."
I felt sick.
"You gave her the exact five hundred she later accused me of stealing."
"Yes."
"And when she said she caught me, you knew those bills had come from you."
"I didn't know how they got to you."
"But you knew she was lying about where they came from."
Daniel had no defense left.
His voice cracked. "Yes."
I took off my wedding ring.
He stared at my hand.
"Claire, please."
I placed the ring in his palm and folded his fingers around it.
"You weren't confused last night, Daniel. You made a choice."
He started crying.
I hated that part of me still wanted to comfort him.
So I walked back into the house.
Ortiz was waiting in the hallway.
"We pulled the registration record for CJM Consulting," she said.
"And?"
"The address on the filing isn't yours."
"Whose is it?"
She turned her screen toward me.
The address belonged to a condo downtown.
The owner was listed as Victor Hale.
But the emergency contact on the business application was Daniel.
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