Chapter 4: Everything Teresa Built
I didn't sleep that night.
Amy finally went under around two in the morning, Frederick tucked against her in the guest room of her sister Laurel's house.
I sat at Laurel's kitchen table with the photocopied documents spread out in front of me and a cup of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago.
Laurel sat across from me.
She was still in her work clothes — she'd driven straight from a late shift when Amy called.
"Walk me through the money," she said.
"Three thousand a month.
Fourteen months."
"Forty-two thousand dollars."
"Yes."
Laurel looked at the notary records.
"And she was spending it on the party?"
"Some of it.
The catering alone was probably six or seven thousand." I pushed the bank statement copy across the table.
"But look at this line.
Eight thousand transferred to a holding account three months ago.
Another six thousand two months before that."
Laurel leaned in.
"Whose account?"
"That's what the detective is trying to find out." I pulled the business card from my shirt pocket and set it on the table.
Gerald Fitch.
"This attorney — if he actually exists and actually helped her draft those documents — he's the one who knew how to make it look legal."
"And Mason?"
"Mason was the carrier.
Teresa kept him close enough to be useful and far enough away to take the fall if something went wrong."
Laurel sat back.
"She planned for something to go wrong."
I hadn't said it out loud before that moment, but hearing it from someone else made it real.
My mother had planned for failure.
She had built in a person to sacrifice.
My phone buzzed.
Detective Hale, the officer who had gone quiet at the mention of Gerald Fitch's name.
I answered it.
"Mr.
Bradley.
Gerald Fitch had his license suspended fourteen months ago.
Practicing without a valid license is a felony in this state.
If your mother used him to draft and execute those documents, every instrument he touched is void.
But more importantly —" Hale paused.
"We pulled his financial records this afternoon.
He has three other open cases.
All of them involve elderly or absent property owners.
All of them involve forged signatures."
"He's done this before."
"Your mother wasn't his first client, Mr.
Bradley.
She may have found him, or he may have found her.
We don't know yet.
But we're looking."
I thanked him and set the phone down.
Laurel was watching me.
"What did he say?"
"That she wasn't working alone and this wasn't her first attempt."
The kitchen went quiet.
Outside, a car passed slowly on the street.
Laurel's porch light caught the edge of it and let it go.
"Connor." Laurel's voice was careful.
"Amy told me something tonight.
Before she fell asleep." She folded her hands on the table.
"She said Teresa called her two days ago.
Told her that if she ever told you about the papers she found in the bag, Teresa would tell you that Amy had been the one stealing from the household account."
I looked up.
"She said Amy cried for an hour and then decided not to say anything because she was afraid you wouldn't believe her."
The coffee cup was still in my hand.
I set it down before I could do something with it.
"She was protecting me," I said.
"She was terrified," Laurel said.
"There's a difference."
I stood up from the table.
Laurel didn't try to stop me.
I walked to the doorway of the guest room and stood there in the dark, listening to Frederick breathe.
Amy's eyes opened.
She hadn't been asleep after all.
"I was going to tell you," she said.
"I just didn't know how."
"I know," I said.
"She told me you'd choose her."
I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
Frederick stirred and settled.
"I already chose," I said.
"A long time ago."
Amy didn't say anything.
She just reached out and took my hand.
But across town, in a holding cell she had not expected to spend the night in, Teresa Bradley was on the phone with someone.
May you like
And from what Detective Hale would tell me the following morning, she had been talking for two hours straight.
She wasn't finished yet.
