Chapter 9 - The Third Person
Monica denied paying Sarah.
For once, I believed her.
Not because my sister had suddenly become trustworthy.
Because she was shocked by the number.
“One hundred fifty thousand?”
Dana watched her carefully.
“You never discussed payment?”
“No.”
“I sent Sarah twelve hundred dollars.”
My jaw tightened.
“For what?”
“Private investigator expenses.”
Dana wrote it down.
Monica looked at me.
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds criminal.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t know she planned to fake anything.”
“You wanted photographs.”
“I wanted proof you were struggling.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
I almost laughed.
Now.
After CPS.
After false allegations.
After my child disappeared for three hours.
Now she knew.
Dana asked.
“Who introduced you to Sarah?”
Monica frowned.
“No one.”
“She messaged me.”
“When?”
“February.”
“Why?”
“She said she was worried about Rachel.”
February.
Five months before the CPS report.
Sarah had been planning far longer than Monica understood.
Investigators traced financial deposits.
Sarah had received six payments totaling $72,000 through a consulting firm.
The firm belonged to a man named Peter Lang.
I knew the name.
Commander Peter Lang.
Former Navy JAG.
My old department head.
He retired eighteen months earlier after an internal investigation.
An investigation I had led.
Peter had been accused of steering legal contracts toward a company owned by his brother-in-law.
I found the evidence.
He retired before formal charges.
He lost his promotion.
Lost his pension increase.
Lost his reputation.
At the time, Sarah defended him.
I thought it was loyalty to a mentor.
Now I understood.
Peter had motive.
Sarah had access.
Monica had desperation.
Three separate resentments had found each other.
Peter wanted my career.
Monica wanted control of Eli.
Sarah wanted money.
And perhaps revenge too.
I sat across from Dana.
“This was coordinated.”
“Yes.”
“How much does CPS know?”
“All relevant investigative staff now know the original complaint may have been malicious.”
“Will the case close?”
“Not until we complete the required process.”
I respected that.
I hated it.
But I respected it.
Dana continued.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The anonymous original report was submitted from a public library.”
“Security footage was recovered.”
My stomach tightened.
“Was it Monica?”
“No.”
“Sarah?”
Dana shook her head.
Then she turned the monitor toward me.
A grainy image showed the person walking to the library computer.
Older.
Gray hair.
Blue sport coat.
May you like
My father.
Thomas Bennett.
