Chapter 5: What Ryan Actually Was
Dana arrived at seven forty-five the next morning, fifteen minutes early, with a leather folder under one arm and coffee for both of us.
She set the coffee on my kitchen table, looked at the notepad where I had written everything down the night before, and sat down without taking off her coat.
"Start with the account," she said.
I walked her through it.
Carol's call.
The bank name.
The transfer records.
The forty thousand dollars moved in increments small enough to avoid automatic flags.
Dana listened without interrupting.
When I finished she opened her folder.
"I pulled his financials this morning," she said.
"What I could access through public records and the preliminary discovery we filed last year when you first came to see me."
"I came to see you about a prenuptial review.
We weren't separating."
"I know.
But I keep files." She turned a page.
"Ryan has three LLCs registered in Delaware.
One of them has your home address listed as its principal place of business."
I stared at her.
"He used our house?"
"As a registered address.
It's common — it doesn't necessarily mean anything on its own.
But one of those LLCs received two wire transfers in the past eighteen months totaling just under three hundred thousand dollars." She looked up.
"From a company I can't find a clean paper trail for."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Dana.
What are you telling me?"
"I'm telling you that Detective Marsh called my office at seven this morning." She closed the folder.
"The man in the car with Ryan last night — his name is Gerald Foote.
He has two prior convictions for financial fraud.
He was released fourteen months ago."
I set down my coffee.
"Ryan has been working with him?"
"That's what they believe.
The account in Sophie's name may be the smallest part of this." She paused.
"They think Ryan has been using shell companies to launder money for Foote's network.
Small amounts.
Routed through real estate transactions to make them look clean."
I thought about all the late nights.
The business trips.
The times he had taken calls in the garage with the door shut.
"He used Sophie's name," I said.
"He put her name on an account connected to this."
"Which is why Detective Marsh wants your full cooperation.
And why — " Dana leaned forward slightly — "Ryan's attorney called me at seven thirty this morning offering a settlement."
"Already."
"Already.
Full custody to you.
The house.
A monthly figure that is — " she named a number — "considerably higher than what we would have opened with."
"He's trying to make this go away."
"He's trying to make *you* go away.
Quickly.
Before you understand the full picture."
I looked at the notepad on the table.
Sophie's name written at the top where I had circled it the night before.
"What do I do?"
"You don't sign anything.
You cooperate fully with the detective.
And you let me do my job." Dana picked up her coffee.
"There's something else."
I waited.
"The woman before Jessica.
The one Carol mentioned." Dana set her cup down.
"Her name is Andrea Foote."
The name landed like something dropped from a height.
"Gerald Foote's daughter," I said.
"His daughter." Dana nodded once.
"Ryan didn't stumble into this.
He was introduced to it."
Outside, Sophie was coming down the stairs.
I could hear her slow careful steps, the way she always descended — one foot, then the other, both on the same step before moving to the next.
She appeared in the kitchen doorway in her pajamas, her hair loose, the bruise on her cheek a dark yellow-purple in the morning light.
She looked at Dana.
Then at me.
"Is Daddy coming back?" she asked.
Dana looked at me.
I pulled out the chair beside me.
"Come sit down, sweetheart," I said.
"I'll make you breakfast."
She climbed into the chair.
She didn't ask again.
But she reached over and put her small hand on top of mine and left it there while I poured her cereal, and I kept my face very still, and I did not let her see what I was feeling.
That afternoon, Ryan called from a number I didn't recognize.
I answered.
"You need to stop," he said.
"Whatever you're doing with the police — you need to stop."
"I'm cooperating with an investigation, Ryan."
"You don't understand what you're getting into."
"Then explain it to me."
Silence.
"You used Sophie's name," I said.
"You put our daughter's name on an account tied to a crjminal network and then you sl@pped her when she caught you with your mistress.
And now you want me to stop."
"I never meant for Sophie to be — "
"Don't." My voice was very quiet.
"Don't tell me what you meant.
Tell that to Detective Marsh."
I ended the call.
He didn't call back.
But that evening, someone left a folded piece of paper under my front door.
May you like
It had two words on it.
*Back off.*
