Chapter 7: Seven O'Clock
I was back at the hotel by noon.
Rachel had connected me with a detective named Hargrove at the financial crimes unit — a woman with a flat, unhurried voice who listened to everything I said without interrupting and then asked me to come in at two o'clock with every document I had.
I brought the photographs, the bank statements, Amber's folder, my father's envelope, and a three-page summary I had typed out in the hotel lobby while my coffee went cold.
Detective Hargrove read through everything at her desk while I sat across from her.
She didn't react visibly to any of it.
She turned pages.
She made notes.
At one point she picked up her phone, said two sentences to someone, and set it back down.
"The spreadsheets on the wall," she said.
"You photographed all of them?"
"Everything visible.
I didn't open the filing cabinets."
"Good." She set down the last page.
"Lieutenant Colonel, I want to be straightforward with you.
What you've brought me today is a strong foundation.
But to move on the storage unit and the accounts, I need a few things in place.
The account holder — your father — needs to provide a formal statement.
And I need the fiancée to come in."
"I can get you both."
"I'll also need you to maintain normal contact with the subject until we're ready.
No confrontations.
No hints.
Can you do that?"
"I've been doing it all day," I said.
She almost smiled.
"I can see that."
I called Amber from the parking lot.
She picked up on the first ring.
"He texted me three times today asking if I'd talked to you," she said before I could speak.
"I told him no.
I told him I'd been at work."
"Were you?"
"Half the day.
The other half I was sitting in my car trying to decide if I was making a mistake."
"Are you?"
A pause.
"No.
I don't think so." Another pause.
"What did you find in the unit?"
I told her.
Not everything — not the other names on the spreadsheets, not yet — but enough.
The filing cabinets.
The organized records.
The fact that this was larger than either of us had understood two days ago in a coffee shop.
She was quiet for a long moment.
"He told me he was bad with money," she said.
"That was actually one of the first things he ever said to me.
Like a warning.
Like he was being honest." Her voice was very even.
"He was telling me the truth.
He just left out the part about whose money he was bad with."
"Amber.
I need you to come in and give a statement.
To a detective."
"Okay."
"It might mean the wedding doesn't happen."
"The wedding was never going to happen," she said.
"I think I knew that when I made those copies.
I just needed someone else to know what I knew before I could say it out loud."
We agreed she'd go in the following morning.
I gave her Hargrove's name and direct number.
At seven o'clock, Kevin called.
"Finally," he said.
"I've been waiting all day."
"I had things to take care of."
"Right, right.
Okay, so — the venue deposit is due in three weeks.
It's twelve thousand.
I figured we split it, you take the larger half since you're the one with the steady income, and then we work out the rest of the budget from there."
I kept my voice completely neutral.
"Walk me through the full budget."
He did.
He had it prepared.
Venue, catering, flowers, photographer, honeymoon deposit.
He read it out like a man who had rehearsed it, which he probably had.
The total he was asking me to cover was just over forty thousand dollars.
"That's a significant number," I said.
"You can handle it.
Come on, Dani.
This is my wedding."
"I'll need to look at my accounts and get back to you."
"How long?"
"A few days."
A pause.
"Is this about the truck?
Because I talked to Dad and he said you two worked things out."
"The truck is fine," I said.
"I just need a few days."
"Okay." He sounded satisfied.
Relaxed.
"I knew you'd come around.
You always do."
I hung up and sat with that last sentence for a long time.
*You always do.*
He wasn't wrong about the past.
He was only wrong about what was coming.
My phone lit up.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*This is one of the names on your brother's spreadsheet.
May you like
I think you know what I mean.
I need to talk to you.*
