Emily read the name on the check three times.
“Mercer Benefits Consulting.”
Derek remained seated, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly that the knuckles had gone pale.
“Who owns it?” she asked.
He did not answer.
She looked at me.
“I think you already know.”
“I suspect.”
“Linda?”
“Yes.”
Emily turned back to her husband.
“Why is a benefits administrator paying you?”
Derek rubbed his mouth.
“It wasn’t personal.”
No one had asked whether it was.
Emily heard the mistake too.
“What wasn’t personal?”
He looked up.
“The consulting.”
“What consulting?”
“I helped her with some things.”
“What things?”
“Data cleanup. Forms. Administrative work.”
I almost admired how quickly he assembled the explanation.
Emily did not.
“You work in commercial insurance.”
“So?”
“So why is someone in my company’s benefits office paying you nearly three thousand dollars for administrative work?”
“It was side work.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you make everything complicated.”
She stared at him.
“I make things complicated.”
“That came out wrong.”
“It came out exactly the way you meant it.”
I picked up the deposit slip.
The account number ended in the same four digits Linda had given me.
“This account received the childcare reimbursements.”
Derek’s head turned.
He had forgotten that detail.
“And these checks too,” I said.
“You don’t know that.”
“The deposit slip is for one of them.”
I showed him the amount.
$2,940.
Same as the check.
Emily sat down.
“How much money is in that account?”
“Not much.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Give me a number.”
“Maybe eight thousand.”
“Show me.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
He stood abruptly.
“No.”
Emily blinked.
“No?”
“You don’t get to demand access to everything I have because your mother decided she’s an investigator.”
“She found checks hidden in our daughter’s piggy bank.”
“I didn’t hide them there.”
Sophie’s voice came from the doorway.
“You did.”
All three of us turned.
She had been listening again.
Derek’s face went rigid.
“Sophie, go watch your movie.”
“You said nobody would look in my bank.”
Emily closed her eyes.
I went to Sophie and took her hand.
“Come with me, sweetheart.”
This time she obeyed.
I walked her into the living room, sat beside her, and asked if she wanted popcorn. She did. While I made it, my hands shook.
Not because of Derek.
Because Sophie had been made part of this.
Perhaps she had not understood what she was hiding, but he had used her trust as storage.
That felt worse than the money.
When I returned to the dining room, Emily was standing by the front door.
Derek had his coat on.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Home.”
Emily said, “I’m staying here.”
He turned.
“What?”
“With the kids.”
“You’re not keeping my children from me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m saying I need space tonight.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Your mother fills your head with nonsense for one afternoon and suddenly I’m dangerous?”
“No one called you dangerous.”
“Then why can’t the kids come home?”
“Because I don’t want to spend tonight arguing in front of them.”
He looked at me.
“This is what you wanted.”
“No.”
“You’ve never liked me.”
“That is not true.”
“You’ve tolerated me.”
“I defended you more times than you know.”
“Then congratulations. You can stop pretending.”
He opened the door.
Emily said, “Derek.”
He paused.
“Give me the login for the work account.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“No.”
Then he left.
The door closed.
Emily stood staring at it.
I wanted to comfort her.
Instead, I waited.
She turned toward me.
“Do you believe any of what he said?”
“About consulting?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“Neither do I.”
We put the children to bed at my house.
Sophie asked whether her piggy bank could be fixed again. I promised we would find someone who knew how to repair ceramic properly.
“Daddy used superglue,” she said.
“I noticed.”
She smiled.
Then she became serious.
“Did I do bad?”
“No.”
“Daddy said it was a secret.”
“You’re allowed to tell Mommy and me things that make you worried, even if someone calls them a secret.”
“Daddy wasn’t bad.”
“I didn’t say he was.”
She stared at her blanket.
“He said the papers were boring.”
“They probably seemed boring.”
“He gave me five dollars.”
I looked at her.
“For putting them in the bank?”
She nodded.
“What did he say?”
“That I was helping.”
I kissed her forehead.
“You can always help by telling the truth.”
After she slept, Emily and I returned to the kitchen.
The papers lay in clear plastic sleeves now.
I had learned enough over the previous days not to handle evidence casually.
Emily looked exhausted.
“What happens now?”
“I give copies to the officer.”
“And my company?”
“That depends on what the police tell us.”
She rubbed her eyes.
“I have to tell them.”
“You may.”
“I work there. My account was used.”
“Then you should speak to an attorney first.”
She looked surprised.
“An attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Mom, I can’t afford some huge legal case.”
“You can afford one consultation.”
“What kind of attorney?”
“Someone who understands employment and financial fraud.”
She leaned back.
“When did you become this person?”
“What person?”
“The person who knows what to do.”
I almost smiled.
“I don’t.”
“You seem like you do.”
“I spent today discovering that your husband may have stolen money using my identity and hidden checks in your daughter’s toy. I am making one reasonable decision at a time.”
That answer seemed to comfort her more than certainty would have.
At eleven, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Margaret?”
Linda Mercer.
I put the phone on speaker without telling her.
Emily straightened.
“Yes?”
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“You came to my office.”
“I remember.”
“There may have been some confusion in the records you received.”
“What confusion?”
“I’m reviewing them.”
“That sounds responsible.”
She paused.
“Did you discuss those records with anyone?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“With whom?”
“The police.”
Silence.
Emily looked at me.
Then Linda said, “Margaret, that may have been premature.”
“Forty-eight forged signatures did not feel premature.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t protect yourself.”
“That is exactly what you’re saying.”
“No. I’m saying some of the documents may have been generated automatically.”
“With handwritten signatures?”
She went silent.
I continued.
“Did Derek tell you I went to the police?”
“No.”
“Have you spoken to him today?”
“No.”
The lie was too easy.
I picked up one of the checks.
“Do you own Mercer Benefits Consulting?”
The silence lasted much longer this time.
Finally she asked, “Why?”
“Because I’m looking at two checks issued by that company to Derek.”
Emily covered her mouth.
Linda’s breathing changed.
“Where did you get those?”
“That is an interesting question.”
“Margaret.”
“Do you own the company?”
“No.”
It was the wrong answer.
Not because I knew for certain she did.
Because she had asked where I got the checks before denying the connection.
“How familiar are you with its checks?”
“I’m not discussing this.”
“Then we’re done.”
“Wait.”
I did.
Her voice dropped.
“You need to understand that Derek is not telling you everything.”
Emily flinched.
“Then you tell me.”
“I can’t over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know who is listening.”
I glanced at Emily.
“Who are you afraid is listening?”
Linda did not answer.
Then she said, “Tomorrow. Ten in the morning. St. Matthew’s parking lot.”
“A church?”
“It’s public.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“Come alone.”
“No.”
“Margaret.”
“I am sixty-four years old, not stupid.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Then help me in daylight, in your office, with records.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Her voice broke slightly.
“Because I’ve been suspended.”
Emily’s eyes widened.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“For what?”
“An internal audit found discrepancies.”
I looked at the checks.
“How many discrepancies?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means you know more than you’re saying.”
“I know enough to tell you this is bigger than your forty-eight claims.”
The room seemed to get smaller.
“What does that mean?”
Linda lowered her voice.
“Your name wasn’t the only one used.”
I did not speak.
“There were other caregivers,” she continued. “Other family members. Other reimbursement accounts.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t have the records anymore.”
“Who does?”
“The company.”
“Who started this?”
Silence.
“Linda?”
Her next words came quickly.
“Derek didn’t.”
Then the line went dead.
Emily stared at the phone.
I called back.
Straight to voicemail.
“She said he didn’t start it,” Emily whispered.
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe she was frightened.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
My phone rang again.
This time the caller ID showed Derek.
Neither of us answered.
A message arrived seconds later.
EMILY, COME HOME. WE NEED TO TALK BEFORE YOUR MOTHER MAKES THIS WORSE.
Then another.
SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT SHE’S WALKED INTO.
Emily looked at me.
“So he knows.”
“Yes.”
“Knows what?”
I looked toward the hallway where my grandchildren slept.
“I think we’re finally asking the right question.”
