Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN REDCourtney called me that night.
Not Charles.
Courtney.
I almost declined.
Detective Ruiz had asked me to report any contact from either of them, so I answered with the call recording.
Her voice was different.
No arrogance.
No laughter.
She sounded terrified.
“Emily, don’t hang up.”
“What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You had plenty to say yesterday.”
“I know.”
My anger arrived instantly.
I remembered her sipping champagne while Charles pulled my hair.
I remembered her telling me I should’ve signed.
“You watched him hurt me.”
“I know.”
“You laughed.”
Silence.
“I was scared.”
“People who are scared don’t usually drink champagne.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
She began crying.
I didn’t care.
At least, I tried not to.
“Charles isn’t who you think he is.”
I stared at the phone.
“That revelation is approximately five years late.”
“No. I mean there’s more.”
I glanced at Ruiz, who was listening through the speaker.
Courtney continued.
“Martin didn’t run Northstar.”
“Who did?”
“Charles.”
“The ownership records say Martin.”
“Because Charles made him put everything in Martin’s name.”
“Why?”
“So nothing could be traced back.”
My stomach tightened.
“What was Northstar for?”
Courtney’s breathing became uneven.
“Buying distressed property. Moving money. Sometimes pretending to buy property.”
“Using stolen money?”
“I didn’t know at first.”
“At first.”
“I met Charles eighteen months ago.”
That aligned almost perfectly with the first withdrawals from my trust.
“He told me you were separated.”
Classic.
Courtney continued.
“He told me the pregnancy was an accident and that he was staying until the baby was born.”
I looked away.
The words still hurt, even knowing what Charles was.
“He said your mother controlled you. That she was trying to destroy his career.”
“My mother discovered he was stealing.”
“I know that now.”
Ruiz slid a note toward me.
Ask about Martin.
“What happened to Martin?”
Courtney went silent.
“Courtney?”
“I don’t know.”
“You called me because you’re afraid.”
“He called me last night.”
“Martin?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Charles had gone too far.”
Ruiz leaned closer.
“Too far how?”
“I don’t know. Martin said there was evidence in a bank box. He said Margaret had copied everything.”
The sound of traffic came through the phone.
Courtney was driving.
“Where are you?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Leaving where?”
“New York.”
“Courtney, Martin was found dead this morning.”
There was silence.
Then she screamed.
Not dramatically.
Not performatively.
A raw, involuntary sound.
“Oh God.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
She began breathing quickly.
“Emily, listen to me. Charles told me Martin was going away. He said Martin would never bother us again.”
Ruiz wrote:
Ask about accident.
My mouth went dry.
“Did Charles ever talk about my mother’s accident?”
Courtney stopped crying.
That frightened me more than anything else.
“Courtney.”
“Once.”
“What did he say?”
“It was after the funeral.”
My entire body went cold.
“We were arguing. I told him Margaret’s death made me uncomfortable because the timing was strange.”
“What did he say?”
“He said accidents happen when people don’t know when to stop interfering.”
Robert stood so abruptly his chair scraped across the floor.
I closed my eyes.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Her voice dropped.
“He had a damaged SUV repaired two days after your mother died.”
Ruiz immediately wrote something.
“What kind?”
“Black Range Rover.”
My mother had told police a black SUV was following her weeks before she died.
My chest hurt.
“Where was it repaired?”
“I don’t know. Charles handled it privately.”
“Courtney, where are you right now?”
“I told you. Leaving.”
“No. Where exactly?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Go to the police.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Then why trust me?”
Because I hated you yesterday, I thought.
Courtney whispered:
“Because he hates you more.”
The line went dead.
Ruiz immediately began tracing the number.
Robert sat down.
I stared at the wall.
My husband may have stolen nearly three quarters of a million dollars from me.
He may have forged my signature.
He may have attempted to steal my mother’s house.
And now there was a possibility he knew something about the crash that killed her.
My grief changed.
Until then, grief had been heavy.
Now it became sharp.
An hour later, doctors told me the contractions were stable.
I could remain hospitalized another night for observation.
At midnight, Robert went home.
Ruiz stationed an officer outside.
I finally fell asleep.
At 2:14 a.m., the fetal monitor alarm woke me.
A nurse hurried in.
My baby’s heartbeat had dropped.
She adjusted the sensors.
Another nurse arrived.
“Emily, roll onto your left side.”
I obeyed.
The heartbeat recovered.
Barely.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The room went dark for three seconds.
Emergency lights came on.
The nurse frowned.
“That shouldn’t happen.”
The officer outside shouted.
Running footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Thirty seconds later, Ruiz rushed inside.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Someone pulled the fire alarm on the first floor.”
“What?”
“And security found a man trying to enter this wing using a stolen employee badge.”
My heart raced.
“Who?”
“He got away.”
Ruiz placed a photograph on the bedside table.
A security camera had captured him.
Baseball cap.
Dark jacket.
Face partly visible.
I didn’t recognize him.
But Robert did when I sent the photograph the next morning.
He called immediately.
“Emily.”
“Yes?”
“That man worked for Charles.”
“How do you know?”
“He drove Charles to your mother’s funeral.”
I looked down at my stomach.
The baby kicked.
Ruiz stepped back into the room holding another update.
Police had located Courtney’s abandoned car at a highway rest stop.
The driver’s door was open.
Her phone was lying on the pavement.
There was blood on the steering wheel.
But Courtney was gone.
And on the passenger seat, officers found an envelope addressed to me.
May you like
Inside were two words.
ASK CHARLES.
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