Chapter 17 - The Boy Who Never Signed
Nick stared at the carbon copy. “I was at summer camp that week.”
“Do you have proof?” Mara asked.
“Pictures. Camp letters. My aunt picked me up at the end of July.”
Elliot looked sick. “Your mother was using your name even then.”
Nick walked to the window. I watched him try to fit the last nineteen years of his life into a story he could understand. He'd believed his father had chosen to leave. He'd believed his mother needed rescuing. She'd made him feel guilty every time he questioned either belief.
“I signed bank forms when I turned eighteen,” he said. “She told me it was just to help manage our accounts. What else did she make me sign?”
Mara didn't guess. She sent document requests to the relevant institutions and connected Sloane's attorney with the investigators already reviewing the bank-account complaint. The original documents would matter more than anyone's memory.
Two weeks later, a bank fraud specialist confirmed that the alleged donation account in my name had been opened with a copy of an identification document that didn't match any record I'd issued. The mailing address belonged to an office building leased by MHC. The bank froze the account pending investigation.
Meanwhile, the original audio from my wedding was authenticated by the venue's sound technician. A detective interviewed the man who had blocked the security camera. He admitted Vivian paid him to stand there but denied knowing Martha intended to cut my hair.
Investigations took months. Meanwhile, we had bills, work, and a marriage full of bruised trust.
One night Nick brought his camp photographs to the kitchen. In the envelope was a letter addressed to him in Elliot's handwriting, unopened and returned to sender.
May you like
On the back Martha had written: HE DOESN'T WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU.
Nick turned the letter over with shaking fingers. “Anna,” he said, “I think I need you to read this with me.”
