Chapter 4 - Daniel’s First Wife
Aunt Susan reached for the baseball bat she kept behind the pantry door.
I stopped her.
Rebecca was still on speaker.
“Do not open the door,” she said.
Three knocks sounded.
Slow.
Measured.
Mom stood behind me.
Her face had gone pale.
I looked through the peephole.
It was not Daniel.
Detective Aaron Price stood on the porch.
I opened the door with the chain still attached.
He held up his badge.
“I need to speak with you.”
Rebecca said through the phone, “Tell him I’m on the line.”
“I have my attorney with me.”
Detective Price nodded.
“Good.”
That word surprised me.
Police officers in television dramas usually wanted lawyers gone.
Price seemed relieved.
I let him in.
He was in his early fifties, gray beginning around his temples, with the tired expression of a man who had heard too many lies.
He looked at Mom.
“Mrs. Lewis, I want to apologize for how I contacted you earlier.”
She frowned.
“For what?”
“The report we received from Mr. Walker was incomplete.”
Rebecca said, “That’s a polite way to put it.”
Price glanced at the phone.
“You’re Ms. Sloan?”
“Yes.”
“Then you probably already know why I’m here.”
“I know several reasons you might be.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
We sat around Aunt Susan’s dining table.
I told him everything.
The slap.
The ultimatum.
The financial papers.
The forged signatures.
The condo.
Elise.
The money.
The life insurance policy.
Then I told him about Natalie Pierce.
His expression changed.
“You know about Natalie?”
“You do?”
He leaned back.
“I pulled Mr. Walker’s background this afternoon after his report stopped making sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said your mother assaulted him and stole financial records.”
“She didn’t.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“The home security system.”
I stared at him.
“We have cameras outside.”
“You also have a foyer camera.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
I looked at Mom.
She looked equally confused.
Price opened a tablet.
“There’s a camera disguised inside the smoke detector above the front entrance.”
My stomach turned.
“Daniel installed a hidden camera?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
He played a clip.
There was my mother standing near Daniel’s office doorway.
Daniel came down the hallway.
No audio at first.
Then sound clicked on.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a charger.”
“You went in my office.”
“Daniel, I’m sorry, I thought—”
“What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you see?”
He stepped closer.
Mom backed away.
“I saw Claire’s name on something.”
“Give it to me.”
“I put it back.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
Then Daniel slapped her.
Once.
Mom gasped.
He shouted something.
She said, “Don’t you touch me again.”
Then he slapped her a second time.
My hand went numb.
I had imagined it.
Now I watched it.
The cruelty was worse on screen.
Not because it was more violent than I expected.
Because it was deliberate.
He paused between the two strikes.
He made a choice twice.
Detective Price stopped the video.
Mom was crying.
“I didn’t know there was a camera.”
“Neither did I.”
Price said, “Mr. Walker gave us access to the system because he believed the footage would show your mother entering his office.”
Rebecca laughed without humor.
“He incriminated himself.”
“Yes.”
“Has he been charged?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“We are gathering the complete evidence.”
Rebecca’s voice sharpened.
“He assaulted a sixty-eight-year-old woman on video.”
Price looked at Mom.
“We can move forward tonight if Mrs. Lewis wants to sign a statement.”
Mom nodded.
“Yes.”
I looked at her.
“You’re sure?”
She reached for my hand.
“He wanted me afraid.”
Her voice was quiet.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
Price took her statement.
Then he returned to Natalie Pierce.
“Daniel Walker married Natalie eleven years ago.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
“What happened to her?”
“Official cause of death was accidental carbon monoxide poisoning.”
My chest tightened.
“Where?”
“A rental cabin.”
“Was Daniel there?”
“He said he left one day earlier for work.”
“Did anyone investigate?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was it ruled accidental?”
“The cabin furnace was faulty.”
Price looked uncomfortable.
“There was no evidence at the time suggesting otherwise.”
“At the time.”
He nodded.
“What changed?”
“The insurance policy caught my attention.”
“How much?”
“$1.5 million.”
Mom whispered, “Oh my God.”
Price continued.
“Daniel was the beneficiary.”
“How soon before she died?”
“Policy issued approximately seven months before.”
Rebecca said, “And now Claire has a two-million-dollar policy issued six months ago.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
My mouth went dry.
“Do you think Daniel planned to kill me?”
Price did not answer directly.
“I think we need to understand how that policy was obtained.”
“Can we cancel it?”
Rebecca said, “Yes.”
Price added, “But I would prefer we document everything first.”
I suddenly remembered the anonymous messages.
I showed them.
Price photographed the screen.
“Any idea who sent these?”
“No.”
“Could be Elise.”
“I don’t think so. She has my number now, but she texted me normally after the coffee shop.”
“Someone else then.”
He studied the photograph of Daniel beside my car.
“When was this taken?”
“This afternoon.”
“Where?”
“The hotel parking lot.”
I zoomed in.
Behind Daniel was a silver SUV.
I recognized it.
“That’s his.”
Price nodded.
“Your husband followed you?”
“I don’t know.”
Mom whispered, “He knew where we were.”
Rebecca said, “Claire, do not stay anywhere Daniel knows.”
Price agreed.
Aunt Susan folded her arms.
“He doesn’t know this house.”
Mom and I exchanged a look.
“He does,” I said.
Daniel had attended Thanksgiving there twice.
Price arranged a protective order request and advised us to stay temporarily somewhere else.
Rebecca booked another hotel under her firm’s corporate account.
We left through the garage.
On the drive, Mom stared out the window.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Did you ever meet Natalie?”
“No.”
“Did Daniel ever mention her?”
“Never.”
“How does someone hide a marriage?”
I thought about it.
“By knowing the other person never thinks to ask for proof.”
Daniel had told me he had spent most of his twenties focused on work.
No serious relationships.
No marriage.
No children.
I had believed him.
Because people don’t usually request marriage certificates from the person they fall in love with.
By midnight, Rebecca had found more.
Natalie had been a financial analyst.
Thirty-three when she died.
Her parents were deceased.
She had one younger brother.
Evan Pierce.
Rebecca found him in Oregon.
“I’m calling him tomorrow,” she said.
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Will he talk?”
“I don’t know.”
At 8:14 the next morning, he called us first.
Rebecca had left a voicemail.
Evan returned it within twenty minutes.
We placed him on speaker.
His first sentence was:
“Is Daniel hurting another woman?”
I closed my eyes.
Rebecca said, “Mr. Pierce, my client is Daniel Walker’s current wife.”
Silence.
Then:
“I knew he remarried.”
I leaned forward.
“Did you know about me?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
Another silence.
“I tried.”
I stared at the phone.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“I never heard from you.”
“I emailed you.”
“What address?”
He read it.
My old Gmail.
I rarely checked it.
Rebecca asked him to forward the messages.
Within minutes, they arrived.
Subject line:
You need to know about Daniel.
Another:
Please read this before it’s too late.
Another:
My sister was afraid of him.
I felt cold.
“Why did you think Daniel had something to do with Natalie’s death?”
Evan exhaled.
“Because Natalie wanted a divorce.”
My fingers tightened.
“When?”
“The month before she died.”
“Why?”
“She found money missing.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“How much?”
“About eighty thousand dollars.”
Mom covered her mouth.
Evan continued.
“She confronted Daniel. He said it was an investment. She didn’t believe him.”
“Did she contact a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Laura Finch. She’s retired now.”
Rebecca wrote the name down.
“Anything else?”
Evan hesitated.
“There was a notebook.”
“What notebook?”
“Natalie kept records.”
“Of what?”
“Daniel’s transactions. Things he said. Dates he disappeared.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did police see it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it disappeared after she died.”
My heart pounded.
Rebecca asked, “Did Daniel know about it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Natalie told him she had proof.”
I looked at Rebecca.
Same pattern.
Financial secrecy.
Discovery.
Confrontation.
Fear.
Insurance.
Rebecca asked, “Did your sister ever mention someone named Richard Collins?”
Evan went silent.
“Mr. Pierce?”
“Where did you get that name?”
I felt the room tighten.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“Daniel’s college roommate.”
Rebecca looked at Miguel, who had joined the call remotely.
Miguel immediately started typing.
Evan continued.
“Richard helped Daniel with some investments when he was married to Natalie.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was he involved when money disappeared?”
“Natalie thought so.”
The name RMC Ventures flashed in my mind.
Richard M. Collins.
The condo.
The transfers.
The shell company.
Rebecca asked, “Do you know where Richard is now?”
“No.”
Miguel interrupted.
“I do.”
We looked at him.
“Where?”
He turned his laptop.
Richard Collins had died fourteen months earlier.
Car accident.
Single vehicle.
No suspicious circumstances.
But his company remained active.
RMC Ventures.
Controlled after his death by an executor.
Miguel opened the filing.
Executor: Daniel Walker.
I whispered, “So Daniel controls the company.”
“Yes.”
“And he transferred our money into it.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca’s phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“It’s from the court.”
“About the financial restraining order?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Daniel filed for divorce.”
I stared at her.
“He beat me to it?”
“Yes.”
“What is he claiming?”
She opened the filing.
Then her jaw tightened.
“He alleges marital abandonment.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course he does.”
“And financial misconduct.”
“What?”
“He claims you transferred marital funds without permission.”
“That’s insane.”
Rebecca scrolled.
Then stopped.
“What now?”
“He attached bank statements.”
Miguel moved closer.
Rebecca turned the screen.
There were withdrawals.
Large ones.
$12,000.
$18,000.
$27,500.
All from accounts in my name.
All supposedly initiated by me.
Total:
$96,400.
“I didn’t do this.”
“I know.”
Miguel looked at transaction dates.
His expression changed.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“These transfers went somewhere.”
“Where?”
He clicked.
The recipient name appeared.
Margaret Lewis.
My mother.
She gasped.
“I never received that money.”
Rebecca stared at the filings.
Daniel had created a paper trail making it look as though I had secretly transferred almost $100,000 to my mother before leaving him.
It was not just divorce strategy.
He had been preparing this.
For months.
Maybe longer.
Then Miguel opened one final document attached to Daniel’s filing.
His face went white.
“What is it?”
He rotated the laptop toward me.
It was a notarized statement.
My mother’s name was at the bottom.
Margaret Lewis.
Her signature looked perfect.
The statement claimed that I had asked her to hide money from Daniel.
Mom stood up.
“I never signed that.”
Rebecca zoomed in on the notary seal.
Then she whispered a name.
I recognized it immediately.
May you like
Elise Harper.
The document had been notarized by my husband’s mistress.
