Chapter 6 - Someone in the House
Marcus called the police non-emergency line while driving back.
The house was legally Camille’s residence too. She had not been barred from entering.
Still, Marcus did not know why she would meet him across town while someone accessed his computer at home.
An officer agreed to meet him.
Marcus arrived first but stayed outside.
Five minutes later, a patrol car pulled into the driveway.
Officer Bryant accompanied him through the front door.
Nothing looked disturbed.
“Maya’s with someone safe?” Bryant asked.
“At school.”
They checked each room.
Empty.
Then Marcus noticed the office window.
Unlocked.
He always locked it.
The computer was still running.
Marcus opened the login history.
A password attempt had occurred at 9:38.
The time Camille had been sitting across from him at the coffee shop.
“Does anyone else have a key?” Bryant asked.
“Camille’s brother.”
“Name?”
“Darren Holt.”
Marcus called him.
Darren answered after four rings.
“What’s up?”
“Were you at my house this morning?”
Silence.
“Darren?”
“Camille said she needed something.”
“What?”
“A flash drive.”
Marcus looked at Officer Bryant.
“Did she ask you to log into my computer?”
“She gave me a password.”
“Why?”
“She said you locked her out of your family files after an argument.”
Marcus forced himself to remain calm.
“What flash drive?”
“A silver one in your desk.”
Marcus opened the top drawer.
Empty.
“What was on it?”
“I don’t know, man. I just dropped it at her friend’s place.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Darren, do not enter my house again without calling me.”
“What the hell is happening?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
After the call, Marcus checked the external-drive inventory on his work laptop.
He kept several backups.
One drive was missing.
The silver one.
It contained tax returns.
Insurance policies.
House documents.
Bank exports.
And copies of Elena’s estate papers.
Marcus felt unease twist through him.
Why would Camille want those?
That afternoon he called his accountant, Lorraine Webb.
“I need copies of everything related to my household finances for the last three years.”
Lorraine hesitated.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
She called back two hours later.
“Marcus, are you sitting down?”
He sat.
“I found something I assumed you knew about.”
“What?”
“Recurring transfers from your joint savings.”
Marcus opened his banking app.
“I know Camille uses the account.”
“These aren’t normal household expenses.”
Lorraine emailed a spreadsheet.
Over eighteen months, forty-eight thousand dollars had moved from Marcus and Camille’s joint savings to an LLC.
HOLT HOSPITALITY GROUP.
Marcus knew the name.
Darren’s restaurant company.
He called Darren again.
This time, he skipped politeness.
“How much money did Camille give you?”
Darren’s voice changed.
“Marcus—”
“How much?”
“About forty grand.”
“Forty-eight thousand six hundred.”
“She said you approved it.”
“I didn’t.”
Silence.
“She told me you wanted to invest.”
Marcus stood from his desk.
“Did you ever speak to me about an investment?”
“No.”
“Did that seem strange?”
“She said you didn’t want business mixed with family.”
Marcus almost laughed.
“What business? Your restaurant closed last year.”
“I’m trying to reopen.”
“With my money.”
Darren breathed heavily.
“I swear to you, I thought you knew.”
Marcus did not know whether to believe him.
Then Darren said something unexpected.
“There’s another thing.”
Marcus waited.
“About the house.”
“What about it?”
“Camille told me once you were planning to sell.”
“I’m not.”
“She said when Maya went away to school, you two were moving.”
Marcus’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Moving where?”
“She showed me a house.”
“Where?”
“Lake Lanier.”
Marcus said nothing.
Darren continued.
“She said you’d use the equity from your place.”
Marcus looked around the office.
This house had belonged to him and Elena.
He had bought it before Maya was born.
Camille had often said the house carried too many memories.
Marcus had always refused to sell because Maya loved it.
Her mother’s height marks remained inside the laundry-room doorway.
A garden Elena planted still bloomed every spring.
Suddenly the pieces aligned.
Remove Maya.
Sell the house.
Start over.
Not only without Elena’s memory.
Without Elena’s daughter.
Marcus opened Camille’s abandoned desk drawer in the office.
At the bottom was a real-estate brochure.
A lake house.
Price: $1.1 million.
May you like
Across the top, in Camille’s handwriting:
OUR REAL LIFE STARTS HERE.
