Chapter 2 - The Account in Gwen's Name
Liam chased Gwen barefoot across wet concrete.
His feet were numb before he reached the garage.
“Gwen!”
She kept moving.
“Stop!”
She reached her SUV.
Liam caught the driver’s door before she could close it.
“What was Nora trying to tell me?”
Gwen’s eyes flashed.
“She just fell four floors and you’re interrogating me?”
“The account was yours.”
“What account?”
“You know exactly what account.”
She laughed in disbelief.
“You think I stole from you?”
“I think Nora sent eight thousand dollars to an account with your name on it.”
Gwen’s face hardened.
“Then ask your wife.”
“She tried.”
“And you locked her outside.”
The words struck him harder than a fist.
Gwen saw it.
She immediately softened her voice.
“Liam.”
“This is not the time.”
“Go to the hospital.”
“I’ll explain later.”
He stared at her.
“Why were you running?”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were leaving.”
“I wanted my phone charger from the car.”
It was a stupid lie.
Both of them knew it.
A police cruiser entered the garage.
Officer Dana Ortiz stepped out.
“Liam Harper?”
He nodded.
“We need you upstairs.”
“What happened?”
“Your apartment may be a crime scene.”
Gwen went still.
Ortiz noticed.
“Who is she?”
“My sister.”
“Were you in the apartment tonight?”
Gwen answered before Liam could.
“Yes.”
“I’m visiting.”
Ortiz looked at her coat, wet shoes, and keys in her hand.
“Then both of you come with me.”
Upstairs, two officers photographed the balcony.
Another dusted the sliding door.
The wet footprints continued from the front entrance to the living room.
One print ended near the balcony track.
Another near Liam’s bedroom.
The intruder had walked through the apartment while Liam slept.
Liam felt sick.
“Was Gwen awake?”
Ortiz asked.
Liam looked toward the guest room.
“I don’t know.”
Gwen folded her arms.
“I was asleep.”
“Did you hear the front door?”
“No.”
“Did you hear Nora outside?”
Gwen’s jaw tightened.
“She knocked earlier.”
Ortiz looked at Liam.
“You knowingly left your wife locked outside?”
The question carried no accusation in tone.
It did not need one.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Liam looked at the clock.
“I don’t know.”
“Several hours.”
Gwen cut in.
“He believed she had stolen money.”
Ortiz looked at her.
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Gwen fell silent.
Liam saw the folded note on the evidence table.
“My wife wrote that.”
“Officer found it on the balcony.”
“Can I read it?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because we don’t know whether the scene involves only an accident.”
Liam stared.
“What does that mean?”
Ortiz lowered her voice.
“Your wife may have been trying to leave because she believed someone inside was dangerous.”
Liam looked at Gwen.
Gwen looked offended.
“Oh, come on.”
Ortiz ignored her.
“We found pry marks on the maintenance access door below the balconies.”
“The ladder was supposed to be locked.”
“Someone released it.”
“Could Nora have done that?”
“Possibly.”
“But the wet footprints inside your apartment are not Nora’s size.”
Liam’s stomach tightened.
“Whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
His phone rang.
Hospital.
Nora was alive.
Pelvic fracture.
Broken wrist.
Hypothermia.
Internal bleeding.
Possible spinal injury.
Liam leaned against the wall.
“Can I see her?”
“Family can come.”
Gwen touched his arm.
“I’ll drive.”
He pulled away.
The movement shocked both of them.
“No.”
“Liam.”
“I said no.”
At the hospital, Dr. Elise Monroe met him outside trauma surgery.
“She is unstable.”
Liam’s chest tightened.
“Is she going to die?”
“We are doing everything we can.”
“What happened?”
“She fell while climbing a ladder.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He could not answer.
Dr. Monroe studied his face.
A social worker stood beside her.
That was when Liam understood.
Nora had arrived injured after being locked outside by her husband.
The hospital did not see him as the grieving spouse.
They saw him as part of the danger.
“I locked the balcony.”
He said it before anyone asked.
The social worker’s expression remained neutral.
“Why?”
“I thought she stole money.”
“And that made you lock her outside in November?”
Liam closed his eyes.
“No.”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“It made sense for about thirty minutes because I was angry.”
“Then I let pride make the decision for me.”
The social worker wrote something down.
He deserved every word.
Detective Marcus Reed arrived at four thirty.
He was older than Ortiz, with tired eyes and a quiet voice.
He placed the bank receipt on the table.
“Tell me about Gwen.”
Liam told him.
Their father, Walter Harper, died eight years earlier.
Their mother had left when Liam was five.
Gwen was nine years older.
She cooked for him.
Protected him from Walter’s temper.
Helped with homework.
Worked part-time to buy his school clothes.
When Walter died, Gwen handled the estate.
There had not been much.
A small house in Petoskey.
A fishing boat.
Debt.
At least that was what Gwen told him.
“Did Nora know Gwen’s finances?”
Reed asked.
“No.”
“Did they get along?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I thought Nora was jealous of how close Gwen and I were.”
“What did Nora say?”
Liam swallowed.
“She said Gwen treated me like property.”
“And what did you say?”
“That Gwen raised me.”
Reed nodded slowly.
“Gratitude can make boundaries difficult.”
The sentence hurt because Nora had said almost the same thing.
At five fifteen, Gwen arrived with coffee.
Reed asked her to wait outside.
She protested.
He closed the door.
“Your sister has an interesting bank history.”
“What do you mean?”
“The account on Nora’s receipt was opened nine months ago.”
“Gwen is the named beneficiary.”
“Who opened it?”
“Nora.”
Liam stared.
“What?”
“The account was opened by Nora Harper.”
“Why would she open an account for Gwen?”
“We don’t know.”
“Transfers came from your joint checking.”
“Yes.”
“Authorized by Nora.”
“Yes.”
“That makes it look like she was giving my sister money.”
“It does.”
“Then why hide the receipt?”
Reed leaned back.
“Because the receipt has handwriting on the reverse.”
He slid a photograph across the table.
Nora had written three lines.
GWEN PROMISED SHE WOULD STOP IF I PAID THE LAST 3,000.
I HAVE COPIES OF THE ORIGINAL CHECKS.
DO NOT LET LIAM CONFRONT HER ALONE.
Liam read it twice.
Then a third time.
“What original checks?”
Reed’s phone vibrated.
He checked the message.
His expression sharpened.
“We may know.”
“Know what?”
“Officers searched Gwen’s guest-room bag with her consent.”
“She withdrew consent halfway through.”
“Too late for what was already visible.”
He showed Liam a photograph.
Inside Gwen’s bag was a checkbook.
The account name printed across the top read HARPER FAMILY TRUST.
Liam stared.
“There is no Harper Family Trust.”
Reed looked at him.
“According to the state registry, there is.”
“Created by Walter Harper twelve years ago.”
“Current estimated assets…”
The detective paused.
“Four point six million dollars.”
Liam forgot how to breathe.
His father had died supposedly broke.
Gwen had controlled the estate.
And Nora had been secretly paying Gwen while collecting copies of checks from a trust Liam never knew existed.
Reed’s phone rang again.
This time he answered.
He listened for less than ten seconds.
Then stood.
“What?”
Liam asked.
The detective looked toward the hallway where Gwen had been waiting.
“She’s gone.”
“How?”
“She walked out during shift change.”
“Where would she go?”
Liam already knew.
Petoskey.
Their father’s old house.
The house Gwen had claimed was sold seven years ago.
The house Nora had asked about three weeks earlier.
The house Liam had told her never to mention again because Gwen said Nora was obsessed with money.
Detective Reed grabbed his coat.
“Why Petoskey?”
Liam looked at the receipt.
May you like
“Because I think my wife found something in my father’s house.”
“And I think my sister knew she found it.”
