Chapter 5 - Mud on the Basement Floor
Daniel ran back upstairs so fast he nearly hit the wall.
"Emily, take Noah next door. Now."
She didn't argue.
Within two minutes, Noah was with Mrs. Chen, their seventy-year-old neighbor, eating banana slices and watching cartoons.
Officer Ramirez returned with another unit.
The basement smelled like damp concrete and machine oil. Muddy shoe prints crossed the floor from the small exterior storm door to the metal cabinet.
"Who has keys?" Ramirez asked.
"Me. Emily. My mother has an old spare to the back door."
"Your brother?"
"Not anymore."
Ramirez crouched beside the cut padlock.
"Who knew the file was here?"
Daniel rubbed his face.
"Family. My dad kept everything in blue folders. Taxes, deeds, insurance. Marcus knew."
Emily pointed toward the storm door.
"There's no forced damage there."
Ramirez nodded.
"Meaning whoever came in probably had access to the house first."
Daniel called his mother.
Ruth answered on the third ring.
"Daniel? I was about to call you. Marcus says you're spreading lies about him."
"Mom, did you give anyone your spare key to my house?"
Silence.
Daniel's stomach dropped.
"Mom."
"I... gave it to Marcus for one afternoon."
Emily closed her eyes.
"When?" Daniel demanded.
"Two weeks ago. He said he wanted to get Dad's old baseball cards from the attic. He said you told him it was okay."
"I never told him that."
Ruth's voice broke. "Daniel, I didn't know."
"Did he give the key back?"
"Yes."
Ramirez quietly asked, "Could he have copied it?"
Daniel didn't need to repeat the question.
Ruth heard it.
"Oh, God."
That afternoon, a locksmith changed every lock in the house. Daniel installed temporary boards over the broken window and ordered cameras for the front and back doors.
Emily barely spoke to him.
Not because she blamed him for Marcus.
Because every hour seemed to reveal another thing she had not known.
After Noah fell asleep, she found Daniel at the kitchen table staring at his online bank account.
"How bad is it?" she asked.
He minimized the screen too quickly.
Emily saw it anyway.
A transfer from their joint savings.
Eighteen thousand dollars.
Recipient: Marcus Walker.
Date: six weeks earlier.
Her voice went flat.
"Why did you send your brother eighteen thousand dollars?"
Daniel didn't turn around.
"Emily..."
"Why did you send the man terrorizing our family eighteen thousand dollars and never tell me?"
He finally looked at her.
The fear in his face was worse than anger.
May you like
"Because I thought if I paid him," Daniel said, "he would leave us alone."
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