Chapter 2 - The Suitcase by the Door
The suitcase was already downstairs.
Marcus saw it the moment they entered the house.
A purple rolling bag stood beside the console table near the front door.
Nia’s name was written on a paper luggage tag.
Nothing about it looked temporary.
Marcus opened it.
Seven shirts.
Six pairs of pants.
Underwear.
Pajamas.
Her inhaler.
Her favorite stuffed rabbit.
The framed photograph of Alana that normally sat beside Nia’s bed.
Marcus stopped breathing for a moment.
Danielle came through the door behind the boys.
“I was going to explain.”
Marcus lifted the photograph.
“Explain this.”
“She was going to Simone’s for a while.”
“You packed a picture of her mother.”
“She likes that picture.”
“You packed her school uniforms.”
Danielle’s lips pressed together.
Marcus unzipped the outer pocket.
A large white envelope sat inside.
He removed it.
Inside were Nia’s birth certificate copy, her health-insurance card, a photocopy of Marcus’s driver’s license, and a form headed:
TEMPORARY CAREGIVER AUTHORIZATION
Marcus stared at the signature line.
His name appeared there.
Marcus Carter.
Signed.
Except Marcus had never seen the document before.
His voice became frighteningly quiet.
“What is this?”
Danielle looked at the paper.
“I was trying to make sure Simone could take her to school and doctors if necessary.”
“You signed my name.”
“I filled it out.”
“You signed my name.”
“It wasn’t notarized.”
“That does not answer me.”
Jordan started crying.
Caleb put down the shoeboxes.
Nia stood near the staircase, frozen.
Marcus immediately lowered the paper.
“Kids, upstairs.”
Caleb hesitated.
“Dad—”
“Take Nia with you. Please.”
Nia grabbed his sleeve.
“Am I still leaving?”
Marcus’s anger vanished from his face.
He crouched.
“No.”
Danielle inhaled.
“Marcus, you can’t promise—”
“Yes,” he said without looking at her. “I can.”
Nia searched his eyes.
“No one is sending you anywhere tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Caleb took Nia’s hand.
The three children went upstairs.
Marcus waited until their bedroom doors closed.
Then he called Simone.
She answered on the third ring.
“Marcus?”
“Were you expecting Nia tomorrow?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
His heart dropped.
“Why?”
Another pause.
“Danielle said you asked me to keep her.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“For how long?”
“She said you and Danielle were having problems and Nia needed stability.”
“How long, Simone?”
“She said maybe through Christmas.”
It was August.
Marcus opened his eyes.
Danielle had turned toward the kitchen.
“Did you ever hear that from me?”
“No.”
“Did you speak to me at all?”
“No. Danielle said you were embarrassed and didn’t want to talk yet.”
Marcus stared at his wife.
Simone continued.
“She sent me an email from your address.”
Marcus’s hand tightened around his phone.
“My address?”
“Your old Carter Homeworks account.”
Marcus barely used that account anymore, but it still existed.
Danielle knew the password.
Years earlier he had given it to her so she could retrieve invoices while he was recovering from shoulder surgery.
“Forward it to my current email.”
“Marcus... what’s happening?”
“I don’t know yet.”
His own answer frightened him.
Simone became quiet.
Then she said, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“She told me not to call Nia tonight because Nia was upset with you.”
Marcus looked toward the stairs.
“She told you Nia was upset with me?”
“She said Nia had been asking to live somewhere else.”
Marcus almost laughed.
But nothing about this was funny.
“She was crying because Danielle refused to buy her shoes.”
“What?”
“I’ll call you later.”
He ended the call.
Danielle leaned against the kitchen counter.
“You’re making this sound sinister.”
Marcus held up the caregiver form.
“I did not sign this.”
“I told you, it wasn’t completed.”
“You packed her medicine.”
“She needs her medicine.”
“You packed her mother.”
Danielle looked away.
Marcus stared at her.
“What did Nia do?”
Danielle’s face hardened.
“This is exactly the problem.”
“What problem?”
“You always ask what everyone did to Nia. Never what Nia does to everyone else.”
“She is seven.”
“She knows exactly how to manipulate you.”
Marcus stared at her in disbelief.
Danielle continued.
“Every time she cries, the whole house stops. Every time she wants something, suddenly Alana’s memory is in the room with us.”
“Do not use my dead wife to justify this.”
“There. That.”
“What?”
“That tone. Like she’s sacred.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“No. She’s a child.”
“So are Caleb and Jordan.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The accusation landed harder than he expected.
Marcus loved the boys.
He had been in their lives since Caleb was six and Jordan was four. Their biological father had disappeared after years of missed visits and unpaid support, and two years earlier Marcus had formally adopted them.
They were his sons.
Not substitutes.
Not obligations.
His sons.
Danielle knew that.
Which made what she had done at the store even stranger.
Marcus placed the caregiver form on the counter.
“How much money did you spend today?”
Danielle folded her arms.
“I don’t know.”
“You know.”
“About six hundred.”
“How much on Nia?”
Silence.
“Danielle.”
“Nothing yet.”
Marcus nodded once.
“Where is the four hundred dollars I transferred for her?”
“I moved things around.”
“Where?”
She stared at him.
Marcus unlocked his phone.
He opened their joint household account.
Then he stopped.
The balance read:
$74.16
There had been $382 before his morning transfer.
Four hundred went in.
Six hundred eighteen came out at Bellamy’s.
That should have left roughly one hundred sixty dollars.
Not seventy-four.
Marcus scrolled.
Another transaction appeared.
D&C Retail Consulting — $89.99
He looked up.
“D&C Retail?”
Danielle’s boutique operated under a company called D&C Retail Consulting LLC.
Her eyes changed.
Only slightly.
But Marcus saw it.
He scrolled again.
Three days earlier:
Transfer — D&C Retail Consulting: $1,250
A week earlier:
Transfer — D&C Retail Consulting: $875
Marcus looked at his wife.
“What is this?”
Danielle moved toward him.
“Give me the phone.”
Marcus stepped back.
“What is this?”
“Business expenses I’m paying back.”
“With our household account?”
“It’s complicated.”
His thumb kept moving.
Then another transaction caught his attention.
Not from the household account.
An incoming transfer.
N. CARTER SUPPORT REIMBURSEMENT — $2,460
Marcus frowned.
He remembered approving a trust reimbursement for Nia’s summer tutoring, therapy sessions after Alana’s death anniversary, camp fees, and school supplies.
But the amount had been $2,460.
Exactly.
Marcus looked at Danielle.
“Where did Nia’s trust reimbursement go?”
May you like
Danielle went still.
And for the first time that day, Marcus saw genuine fear.
