“We’ll need a warrant for deeper forensic extraction.”
“But the basic log contradicts him.”
Another lie.
Then the detective continued.
“He also has a message thread with someone named Marcus Dell.”
I did not recognize the name.
“Who is he?”
“We’re finding out.”
“What did the messages say?”
“I can’t disclose everything yet.”
“But one message from yesterday said.”
She paused.
Then read from her notes.
“Old lady found the transfers.”
My stomach dropped.
Another message.
“Need to handle tonight.”
I sat down.
The room became very quiet.
“Who wrote that?”
“Your husband.”
I stared at the wall.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years of sleeping beside him.
Traveling with him.
Trusting him.
Defending him.
And somewhere inside those years, Julian became someone who referred to my mother as the old lady whose money he needed to handle.
“Is he under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“We are building probable cause carefully.”
“I understand.”
That was the officer in me answering.
The daughter wanted handcuffs immediately.
The wife did not exist anymore.
Not after that message.
