Chapter 3: The Second Set of Numbers
He set three folded pages on the table beside the registry printout.
I recognized the format.
Bank statements.
But these were not the ones we had gone through together that morning.
The header was different.
A different account number.
A different bank entirely.
"Where did these come from?" I asked.
"I found them in the car." He smoothed the crease on the top page.
"In the glove compartment.
Behind the insurance card.
I don't think she knew I had the car today."
I sat down.
The account was in Lennox's name only.
Not a joint account.
Not a business account.
Hers alone, at a bank I had never heard her mention.
"How long has this been open?" I asked.
"Fourteen months."
I looked at the deposits.
They were not small.
Three transfers of $8,000.
Two of $12,000.
One of $15,000.
Spaced out across the fourteen months, never two in the same week, never in a pattern obvious enough to flag.
"Terrence.
Where did this money come from?"
He pointed to the memo line on the first transfer.
*MB House — consulting.*
"Maribel paid her," I said.
"Maribel's LLC paid her.
Every transfer came from the Maribel House business account."
I sat back in my chair.
"So Lennox gave Maribel $300,000 of your money.
And Maribel paid Lennox back in installments through a private account."
"That's what it looks like."
"Does Lennox know you found these?"
"No." He folded the pages again.
"She thinks I went to the store to look at the ownership documents.
She doesn't know about the statements."
His phone buzzed again on the table.
We both looked at it.
Another text from Lennox.
*"Terrence I am not playing.
If you don't answer me in the next ten minutes I am calling your mother and telling her things that will change how she sees you forever."*
He read it.
Set the phone face-down.
"What things?" I asked.
He was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know.
She does this.
When she feels cornered, she finds the sharpest thing available and points it at whoever is closest."
"Has she done it before?
Made threats like that?"
"She told my supervisor once that I had a dr*g problem.
When I was up for a promotion she didn't want me to take because it required travel."
I stared at him.
"Did your supervisor believe her?"
"He pulled me in for a meeting.
I had to take a test to keep the position." He looked at the table.
"I passed.
But the promotion went to someone else."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Terrence," I said carefully.
"I need you to think about something.
The private account.
The consulting payments.
The threat she just sent.
The things she did before." I paused.
"This is not a marriage that went wrong because of bad financial decisions."
He didn't answer.
"This was planned," I said.
"The account was opened fourteen months ago.
The house sold eight months ago.
She was building an exit before you even listed the property."
He picked up the bank statement again.
Looked at it for a long time.
"Then why is she still here?" he said.
"If she had a plan, why didn't she just leave?"
It was a fair question.
I thought about it.
"Because the plan wasn't finished," I said.
"You still have $27,000.
And she still needs somewhere to land while she decides what to do with it."
His jaw tightened.
"My house," he said quietly.
"She was going to use your house as the landing pad."
"And I was going to be the reason you stayed calm while she finished."
He set the statement down very carefully, the way a person sets something down when they are afraid of what they might do if they are not deliberate about it.
His phone lit up again.
This time it was not Lennox.
It was a number I did not recognize.
He answered it on the second ring, and I watched his expression shift from exhaustion to something I had not seen on my son's face in years.
Alarm.
"Who is this?" he said.
A pause.
"Say that again."
Another pause.
Longer.
He looked at me across the table.
"When?" he said into the phone.
Whatever the answer was, he closed his eyes.
"Don't touch anything," he said.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
He ended the call and stood up so fast the chair scraped back.
"That was the building manager at our old apartment," he said.
"The one we rented before we bought the house.
He says Lennox has a storage unit there.
May you like
Has had one for two years." He picked up his keys.
"He says she came by an hour ago with Maribel and they were loading things into a van."
