Chapter 9: The Second Account
I didn't sleep well for the next week.
I didn't tell Noah about the second account.
Not yet.
Ruth had asked me to wait until the investigators had something more concrete, and I thought she was right.
Noah had just started sleeping through the night again.
He'd stopped flinching every time a car pulled into our driveway.
I wasn't going to take that from him based on a maybe.
But I thought about it constantly.
Eleven thousand dollars.
Four months before Dad's heart attack.
I tried to remember that period.
Dad had seemed tired that year — but he'd always worked long hours, and we'd all assumed it was the job.
He'd gone to the doctor twice for what he called indigestion.
He'd been told to reduce stress.
He was forty-four years old when he d*ed.
Ruth called on a Wednesday afternoon, eleven days after she'd told me about the account.
"The investigators spoke with the DA this morning," she said.
"The deposit traces back to a life insurance policy."
My hand went cold on the phone.
"Dad had a life insurance policy."
"Yes.
A standard one through his employer.
The payout went to the estate." She paused.
"But this was a separate policy.
A smaller one.
Taken out privately, eighteen months before his passing." Another pause.
"Carla was the sole beneficiary."
I sat down.
"She took out a life insurance policy on my father," I said.
"Without telling anyone."
"It's not illegal to take out a policy on a spouse," Ruth said carefully.
"But the timing, combined with the financial fraud documentation, has given the DA's office reason to expand the scope of their inquiry."
"Expand it how?"
"They've requested your father's full medical records from the two years prior to his passing.
And they've asked the original attending physician to submit to an interview."
I pressed my hand flat against the kitchen table.
The wood was cool.
Solid.
"Ruth," I said.
"Do they think she did something to him?"
Ruth was quiet for a long moment.
"They don't know yet," she said.
"And I need you to hold that uncertainty carefully.
This may lead nowhere.
Medicine is complicated, and your father had documented risk factors." Her voice was steady and kind.
"But they are asking the question.
And they should ask it."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.
"Okay," I said.
"How are you doing?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
"I keep thinking about the indigestion.
He used to joke about it.
He said Carla's cooking was trying to kjll him." My throat tightened.
"He thought it was funny."
Ruth didn't say anything for a moment.
"Lily," she said.
"Whatever they find — or don't find — you and Noah are not responsible for any of this.
You were children.
You are still young.
None of this was yours to see."
I pressed my eyes shut.
"I know."
"Do you?"
I didn't answer right away.
"I keep thinking I should have known," I said.
"I lived in that house.
I saw the bags and the price tags and the way she looked at us like we were inconveniences.
I should have—"
"You were grieving your father," Ruth said firmly.
"You were keeping your brother together.
You were surviving." A pause.
"That is not a failure of observation.
That is what children do when adults fail them."
I exhaled slowly.
"The hearing is in three weeks," Ruth said.
"I'll be there with you."
"I know," I said.
"Thank you."
After I hung up, I sat at the kitchen table for a long time.
Noah came downstairs around seven to make dinner.
He moved around the kitchen without asking what was wrong, which meant he already knew something was.
He made pasta.
He put a bowl in front of me.
He sat down across from me and ate without talking.
After a while he said, "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it."
I looked at him.
He was fifteen years old and he was making me dinner and telling me we'd deal with it.
"Yeah," I said.
"We will."
He nodded and went back to his pasta.
Outside, a car slowed in front of the house.
We both looked up.
It didn't stop.
It kept going.
Noah watched the window for a moment, then looked back at his bowl.
"She drove past again yesterday," he said quietly.
"Around noon.
I saw her from my window."
I set my fork down.
"You didn't tell me."
May you like
"I'm telling you now."
I picked up my phone and called Ruth.
