Chapter 13 - The Things Emma Saw
Emma woke screaming that night. She reached for Jo first, then for me, and finally asked for Claire.
"I want Mommy before the flowers," she sobbed.
I had no answer that could make time move backward.
The hospital social worker helped us arrange a counselor who worked with young children after frightening events. Dr. Miriam Lowe spoke to Emma through drawings and toys, not an interrogation. She told me the goal wasn't to make Emma give evidence. It was to help her feel safe.
"Don't tell her she imagined anything," Dr. Lowe said. "Don't ask her to be brave for the adults. Let her be four."
Later, Emma tugged my hand.
"You made Aunt Mallory fall. Are you going to make somebody else fall?"
The question hurt more than the public accusations.
"No," I said. "I got so angry that I hurt her. That was wrong. I'm going to get help so I never do that again."
"But she hurt Mommy."
"She did. And the police will handle that. It isn't your job."
Emma thought about it. "Can Mommy be mad when she wakes up?"
"As mad as she wants."
For the first time, Emma almost smiled.
Ortiz returned with the financial investigator's preliminary findings. The two-hundred-and-eighty-thousand-dollar loan hadn't been paid to Mom. Most of it had moved from Alder Ridge into Grant's private business accounts. Mallory had received money too.
"Then they knew," I said.
"The bank records suggest both benefited. We still have to prove who authorized which transfers."
"What about Claire's signature?"
"We're collecting exemplars. Her work records place her at an elementary school meeting at the claimed signing time."
I looked toward my wife's room. She'd been protecting children at work while someone used her name to steal from our family.
May you like
Ortiz slid one final transaction across the table. It was a withdrawal from Mom's account, authorized through her online banking profile.
The date was four days after she died.
