Chapter 5: What Betsy Knew
I showed Daniel the message.
He read it twice.
"Don't go alone."
"I wasn't planning to."
"And don't meet her anywhere private.
If she has something to say, she can say it somewhere with witnesses."
I texted Betsy back.
*Diner on Merchant Street.
One hour.
I'm bringing my attorney.*
She replied immediately.
*Please.
Just you.*
I typed: *Merchant Street.
One hour.
That's the offer.*
She didn't respond for four minutes.
Then: *Okay.*
Betsy was already there when we arrived.
She was sitting in a corner booth with both hands wrapped around a coffee cup she wasn't drinking.
She looked like she hadn't slept.
She glanced at Daniel and then back at me.
"I said just you."
"He stays," I said.
"Talk or don't."
She looked down at the table.
Then she started.
"I didn't know about the document.
The power of attorney.
I didn't know about Mason's company or the transfer.
I want you to know that."
"What did you know?" I asked.
"I knew Teresa had a plan.
I knew she'd been moving money.
I thought it was just — I thought she was setting aside savings.
For herself.
I didn't ask questions because I didn't want to know the answers."
"You told Amy she had to earn her place," I said.
"You laughed."
Betsy's jaw tightened.
"Teresa asked me to keep Amy busy.
She said Amy had been complaining about the workload and needed to understand family expectations.
I thought it was just Teresa being Teresa." She paused.
"I didn't know Amy was holding a sick baby.
I didn't go into the kitchen."
"You didn't go into the kitchen," I repeated.
"No."
"Because you didn't want to see."
She didn't answer.
Daniel spoke quietly.
"Mrs.
Betsy, if you have information relevant to the fraud, withholding it is its own legal problem."
Her hands tightened around the cup.
"There's a storage unit," she said.
"Teresa has one on Clifton Avenue.
She's been keeping documents there.
I saw her come out of it once with a folder — same kind of folder Mason had last night.
I asked her what it was and she said it was old tax records." Betsy looked up at me.
"It wasn't tax records.
I could see the top of the page.
It had your name on it.
And Amy's."
"When was this?" I asked.
"Six weeks ago."
Six weeks.
Frederick had been five and a half months old.
"Do you know the unit number?"
"I don't.
But I know the facility.
I can write it down."
She pulled a napkin toward her and wrote the name of the storage company and the cross street.
She slid it across the table.
"I'm sorry, Connor." Her voice dropped.
"I should have said something sooner.
I kept telling myself it wasn't my business."
"Amy was alone in that kitchen for four hours," I said.
"With a sick baby.
Afraid to stop working because she was afraid of my mother.
That was your business."
Betsy didn't try to argue.
She left first.
Daniel and I stayed.
He picked up the napkin and looked at it.
"Storage unit contents can be subpoenaed if the DA moves fast enough.
I'll make a call this afternoon." He folded the napkin into his jacket pocket.
"She gave us something useful.
But I want you to understand — Betsy knew enough to have stopped this.
She chose not to.
That's worth remembering."
I looked out the window at the street.
My phone rang.
Amy.
"Frederick's fever broke," she said.
"He's awake.
He's been grabbing at his ear but the doctor says that's normal.
He's going to be fine."
I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Connor." Her voice was careful.
"Your mother called the hospital this morning.
She told the front desk she was Frederick's grandmother and asked which room he was in."
I was already standing.
"They didn't give it to her," Amy said quickly.
"The nurse flagged it and called me.
But she tried."
May you like
I looked at Daniel.
He was already reaching for his phone.
