Chapter 7: Gail Fenton
Reyes found Gail Fenton in three days.
She was living forty minutes north of Dallas in a house registered under a company name — a company that, on paper, had no connection to Dad.
But the property records told a different story.
The deed had been transferred eighteen months ago, two weeks after Mom's life insurance payout cleared.
Reyes called Aunt Ruth on a Thursday afternoon.
I was sitting at the kitchen table doing schoolwork — Aunt Ruth had contacted the district and arranged for a temporary home study — when she came in and sat down across from me.
"They brought Gail Fenton in for questioning this morning," she said.
I put down my pen.
"And?"
"She didn't cooperate at first.
Denied everything.
Said she hadn't spoken to your father in over two years." Aunt Ruth set her phone on the table.
"Then they played her Noah's recording."
"The kitchen audio."
"Yes.
Her voice was on it.
She couldn't explain that away." She paused.
"She asked for a lawyer.
But before the lawyer arrived, she said one thing."
"What?"
"She said: 'Daniel told me the children were taken care of.'"
I stared at her.
"Taken care of," I repeated.
"She claims she didn't know about the @buse.
That she thought you and Noah were being looked after properly.
That she only knew about the financial arrangement." Aunt Ruth's voice was careful.
"Whether that's true is for the investigators to determine."
I pushed back from the table.
"She knew money was being taken from our mother's estate.
She helped move it.
She didn't ask where the children were or whether they were safe." I looked at Aunt Ruth.
"That's not being uninvolved.
That's choosing not to look."
Aunt Ruth nodded slowly.
"Yes.
It is."
The next day, Dad's attorney contacted Aunt Ruth's lawyer.
Dad wanted a meeting.
Not a legal meeting — a family meeting.
Him, me, and Noah.
No attorneys present.
Aunt Ruth's lawyer said no.
Dad's attorney called back an hour later and said Dad had information about the estate that the children deserved to hear directly from him.
That there was money set aside specifically for Cara and Noah that hadn't been disclosed yet.
That if the case went to trial, that money might be tied up for years.
Aunt Ruth brought it to me.
"It's a tactic," she said.
"He's trying to create a reason for you to meet with him outside the legal process."
"I know," I said.
"But what if there actually is money?"
"If there is, the court will find it.
That's what courts are for."
I thought about it for a long time.
Then I picked up my phone and called Reyes.
"My father's attorney is claiming there's undisclosed money in the estate," I said.
"Money set aside for me and Noah."
"We're aware of the claim," Reyes said.
"It came up in Fenton's interview as well.
We're looking into it."
"Is it real?"
A pause.
"There is an account," he said carefully.
"We found it this morning.
It was opened in your mother's name, eight years ago, with you and Noah listed as beneficiaries." Another pause.
"Your father was not listed."
I sat down.
"He couldn't touch it," I said.
"Not legally.
But he tried." Reyes's voice was steady.
"He forged a beneficiary change form fourteen months ago.
The bank flagged it as irregular and froze the account pending verification.
That's one of the additional charges."
I pressed my hand flat on the table.
"How much is in it?"
He told me.
I didn't say anything for a long moment.
"My mother set that up," I said.
"Before she passed."
"The account was opened seven months before her death," Reyes said.
"Yes."
I thought about my mother, sick and knowing it, sitting in a bank office, filling out forms, making sure we would be okay.
Making sure that even if everything else fell apart, there would be something left for us that he couldn't reach.
She had known.
Maybe not about Melissa.
Maybe not about Gail Fenton.
But she had known enough.
"Thank you," I said to Reyes.
"For telling me."
"Thank your brother," he said.
"That kitchen recording is what broke this open."
I hung up and sat there for a while.
Then I went to find Noah.
He was in the backyard, throwing a tennis ball against the fence and catching it.
He looked up when I came out.
"What happened?" he said.
"Mom left us something," I said.
"A long time ago.
Before she passed.
She set up an account for us."
Noah caught the ball and held it.
"For us?"
"For us.
Not for Dad.
For us."
He looked at the fence for a moment.
"She knew he might do something bad," he said.
"I think she wanted to make sure we'd be okay no matter what."
Noah turned the ball over in his hands.
"She was smart," he said.
"Yeah," I said.
"She really was."
He threw the ball against the fence again.
It came back clean and straight.
"Cara," he said.
May you like
"I'm glad she was our mom."
I sat down on the back step and watched him throw the ball, and I didn't say anything, because there was nothing to add to that.
