Chapter 2: The Name on the Account
Part 2 — Continued
The officer took Brooke's phone and scrolled slowly through the folder.
His expression didn't change.
But he stopped on one file and looked up at Grant.
"Sir, I need you to step outside with me."
Grant's jaw tightened.
"Whatever she showed you, it's out of context."
"Outside.
Now."
His mother grabbed my arm as they walked Grant toward the door.
"You did this," she hissed.
"You turned her against her own husband.
You've d.e.s.t.r.o.y.e.d this family."
I looked at her hand on my arm.
Then I looked at her face.
"She built that folder for fourteen months," I said quietly.
"Fourteen months, and she never told me.
Ask yourself why she felt safer telling a police officer than her own mother-in-law."
She let go.
Brooke was sitting at the table now, very still, both hands flat on the tablecloth.
I sat beside her and didn't say anything.
There was nothing to say yet.
Then her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
And the color drained from her face.
"Mom," she whispered.
"He's been moving money."
She turned the phone toward me.
A banking notification.
A transfer.
A name on the receiving account I didn't recognize.
May you like
But Brooke did.
And the way she said that name told me this went much further than one terrible dinner.
