Chapter 2 - The Money Beneath Our Marriage
Emma remained in intensive care through the night.
Doctors assured me that the sedative was leaving her system, but every time a monitor changed rhythm, I stopped breathing.
Mark and Rachel were questioned in separate rooms.
I sat between them in the hallway, wondering how the two people closest to me had become strangers within a single afternoon.
Detective Ortiz spoke to me shortly before sunrise.
“Has your husband experienced financial difficulties?”
“No.”
The answer came automatically.
Mark earned more than enough. We owned a large home in a quiet Baltimore neighborhood, paid Emma’s private school tuition and contributed regularly to retirement and college accounts.
Ortiz placed several bank statements on the table.
“Do you recognize these transfers?”
The first showed forty thousand dollars leaving our savings account. The second showed seventy-five thousand. The third was just under one hundred thousand.
All had been transferred to companies I had never heard of.
The total exceeded three hundred thousand dollars.
“There must be a mistake.”
“The transfers were authorized from your husband’s device.”
I stared at the dates.
Most occurred while Mark claimed to be working overnight shifts.
“Where did the money go?”
“We are still tracing it.”
He slid another page toward me. It listed cash withdrawals, private loans and payments to online betting platforms.
“Your husband appears to have a serious gambling problem.”
I felt as though I were watching someone else’s life collapse.
“He doesn’t gamble.”
“His activity suggests otherwise.”
“How much does he owe?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Ortiz hesitated.
“Your sister transferred eighty thousand dollars to him six months ago.”
I looked toward the interview room where Rachel sat.
“She never told me.”
“When we asked why she loaned him the money, she requested an attorney.”
Mark left his interview first. An officer escorted him back to Emma’s room because he had not yet been charged.
The moment we were alone, I held up the statements.
“What is this?”
His face drained of color.
“Claire, I can explain.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars is missing.”
“I was trying to replace it.”
“With gambling?”
“It wasn’t supposed to become this large.”
“How large?”
He rubbed both hands across his face.
“I made a few sports bets with people from the hospital. I won at first.”
“Then you lost.”
“Yes.”
“And you took our money without telling me.”
“I was going to repay everything.”
“With Rachel’s money?”
His eyes moved toward the door.
“She offered to help.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Ask her.”
“I’m asking you.”
Mark leaned closer.
“Your sister has never helped anyone without wanting something in return.”
Before I could answer, Rachel entered with her attorney.
Mark’s body stiffened.
Rachel looked through the observation window at Emma.
“How is she?”
“You heard her,” I said. “Why did you give Mark eighty thousand dollars?”
Rachel glanced at her attorney, then answered.
“Because he told me you would lose the house if I didn’t.”
Mark laughed bitterly.
“That’s not what happened.”
“He came to my office crying,” Rachel continued. “He said he had made a temporary investment mistake and needed money before Claire found out.”
“You believed him?”
“I believed you loved him.”
The answer hurt.
Rachel looked at Mark.
“Then he came back asking for more. When I refused, he threatened to tell you that the money had been mine all along.”
“Why would he say that?”
“Because he wanted to make it look as if I had been stealing from your accounts.”
Mark shook his head.
“She’s building a story.”
Rachel stepped closer.
“No. You built it. I simply stopped protecting you.”
Ortiz returned with another officer.
“We need to speak with Dr. Bennett again.”
“Am I under arrest?” Mark asked.
“Not at this time.”
“Then I’m staying with my daughter.”
Ortiz placed an evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a disposable syringe.
“We found this in your garage trash. It contains traces of the same sedative.”
Mark stared at it.
“That isn’t mine.”
Rachel gave a humorless laugh.
“Nothing is ever yours when the police find it.”
Mark turned toward me.
“She had access to our house yesterday. She prepared the drinks. She borrowed my car last week.”
Rachel’s face changed.
“I borrowed it because you said yours needed servicing.”
“You could have placed the vial beneath the seat.”
“And you could have poisoned your own daughter.”
The room went silent.
Mark moved so quickly that the officer stepped between them.
“Don’t you ever say that again.”
“Then explain why you recognized the sedative before the doctors did.”
“I smelled it.”
“The substance is nearly odorless,” Rachel replied.
Mark froze.
Ortiz looked at him.
“How would your sister-in-law know that?”
Rachel reached into her purse and removed a folder.
“Because three weeks ago, Mark asked me to help him sell hospital medication to pay his debts.”
My knees weakened.
Mark stared at her as if she had placed a weapon on the table.
“You’re lying.”
Rachel opened the folder.
Inside were printed messages.
One from Mark read:
I can get something that puts a man down before he knows what happened.
Another said:
No blood. No noise. Just sleep.
The last message contained a name.
Malcolm Reed.
Ortiz took the papers.
“Who is Malcolm?”
May you like
Rachel looked at Mark.
“The man who has been threatening to kill him.”
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