Chapter 5
The recipient was Carol Carter, Eric's mother.
The transfer date was one month ago.
"He told me it was for his mother's medical bills," Laura said. "But I looked into it. His mother was never sick."
The number stared back at me. Eric had funneled his entire savings through his mother's account, and every last cent was gone.
"What are you trying to say?" I asked.
"I'm saying he's hiding assets," Laura said, wiping her eyes. "He knew you'd find out eventually, so he moved the money first."
I handed her phone back.
"Anything else?"
"Last night, he called me and told me to take the baby and move in with his mom. He said you'd throw a fit for a while and then get over it."
"Get over it?"
"His exact words were, 'Where's Nina gonna go? Without me, she can't even afford a roof over her head.'"
A small laugh escaped me.
Laura stared, clearly confused.
"What's funny?"
"What's funny is that you actually have a conscience," I said, standing up. "Thanks for this."
"Nina..."
"Don't call me that. You and your man can figure out the rest on your own. It's not my problem anymore." I picked up my bag and headed for the door.
Outside the Starbucks, I got in my car and called Killian.
"Mr. Shaw, Eric's moving money. He transferred 65 thousand to his mother's account a month ago."
"I'll trace the full chain. You have nothing to worry about, Ms. Sullivan."
"One more thing."
"Go ahead."
"I want to speed this up. I'm done waiting."
"Ms. Sullivan, based on the current evidence, a contested divorce would take three to six months at the earliest."
"Then make it three."
"Understood."
I hung up and started the car.
As I passed through a stoplight near the mall, a black Maybach pulled up beside me in the next lane.
The window slid down. The driver, a man in his late twenties, turned his head and glanced at me. Sharp jawline, deep-set eyes, close-cropped hair, and an expression that gave away absolutely nothing.
He looked at me for exactly one second. Then the window went back up.
The light turned green. The Maybach pulled ahead, and I didn't think much of it as I followed the flow of traffic home.
When I got back, a taxi was parked outside the building. A woman in a floral blouse, clutching two grocery bags, was jabbing at my doorbell. It was Carol Carter, Eric's mother.
I walked up to her. "Mom."
Carol spun around, looked me up and down, and put on the expression I'd come to know very well. The one that said, "I'm here to set you straight."
"Nina, get inside. We need to talk."
She marched in and dropped the grocery bags on the coffee table. Apples and a bag of mixed nuts. Every time she showed up to lecture me, she brought fruit. As if that made it something other than an ambush.
"Nina, Eric told me everything," Carol said.
"Told you what?"
"That you want a divorce."
"That's right."
"Absolutely not."
Carol dropped onto the couch and crossed her legs.
"Nina, let me be real with you. Men have their needs. It happens. You think your Aunt Lisa's husband hasn't had something on the side for years? She gets along just fine. Don't go blowing up your whole life over one little thing."
"Mom, one little thing? He had a baby with another woman."
"So what?" Carol's volume jumped. "That baby is a boy! Look at you. Three years, and you've got nothing to show for it. When exactly were you planning to give the Carter family an heir?"
My eyes stayed on her.
"Mom, are these your own thoughts, or did Eric coach you on what to say?"
"He doesn't need to coach me. I'm his mother. I know what's best for him. And Nina, if you actually go through with this divorce, that apartment belongs to my son. You won't see a dime."
"I put down 65 thousand for the deposit on this place."
"So what? The title is in Eric's name! You're a girl from out of town making 2,800 a month. You married my son and lived the good life for three years, and now you're getting too big for your britches?"
Lived the good life. In three years under this roof, I'd cooked every meal, washed every dish, scrubbed every floor, and done every load of laundry. I'd sent Carol cash on every holiday and bought her a necklace for her birthday.
She called that living the good life.
"Mom," I said, keeping my voice level, "I have the bank records for the deposit. I have the statements showing my half of the mortgage. If this goes to court, a judge decides who gets what."
"You wouldn't dare take this to court!" Carol shot to her feet. "Nina, I'm warning you. If you divorce my son, I will make sure you can't survive in this city!"
"How, exactly?"
"You make 2,800 a month. The apartment is Eric's. Your parents don't even live here. You divorce him and what? Sleep on the street?"
"So you think I should just take it?"
"Take what? You've got no one to blame but yourself! If you'd given him a child, he wouldn't have needed to find one somewhere else!"
That one actually made me laugh.
"Mom, that's quite the logic you've got there. Your son cheats, and it's my fault for not getting pregnant. So if I had gotten pregnant and he still cheated, then what? My fault for not having twins?"
"You..." Carol pointed a shaking finger at me. "You're really talking back to me now?"
"I've always talked like this, Mom. The difference is your son had never given me a reason to stop being polite."
"Just you wait." She grabbed one of her grocery bags, then put it back down. She thought for a second, probably remembering what apples cost, and then picked it up again. "I'm going straight to Eric. You wanna make a scene? Bring it on!"
"Drive safe."