Chapter 8: The Woman in the Security Footage
Detective Harris returned within fifteen minutes.
She examined the photograph carefully, then contacted the officers assigned to investigate the unauthorized medical access.
"Nobody leaves this property until we know whether the individual is nearby," she instructed.
David was furious.
"He's photographing my sister's bedroom, and you're telling me to wait?""
"I'm telling you not to confront someone who may be involved in an organized criminal investigation.""
David clenched his jaw.
Detective Harris continued.
"We've requested footage from the street cameras and the security system at your sister's former residence.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Why would Daniel still be helping Mark?""
"We don't know yet," she answered.
"But we're going to find out.""
An hour later, an officer arrived with a tablet.
He showed Detective Harris several images from the security camera outside my former home.
The first showed a dark sedan entering the driveway.
The second showed Daniel stepping out.
The third showed him walking directly toward the front door.
I frowned.
"He has a key.""
David looked at me.
"Are you sure?""
I nodded.
"Mark gave a spare key to his office staff last year. He said it was for emergencies.""
The detective examined the footage.
"Did you authorize Daniel to enter your home?""
"No.""
"Did Mark tell you he had given him a key?""
"No.""
She wrote something down.
Then the footage continued.
Daniel entered the house.
Seven minutes later, he came out carrying a brown envelope.
He placed it in the passenger seat of his car.
Then another vehicle arrived.
A white SUV.
A woman stepped out.
My breath caught.
I recognized her.
It was Vanessa.
But she was standing in the driveway of my house.
The footage showed her speaking to Daniel for several seconds.
Then she handed him something.
Detective Harris paused the video.
"Vanessa, do you recognize this?""
Vanessa leaned closer.
Her face drained of color.
"That's not possible.""
David turned.
"What?""
"That's me.""
"You were here?""
"No.""
She shook her head repeatedly.
"I've never been to Sarah's house without Sarah.""
The detective replayed the footage.
The woman looked exactly like Vanessa.
Same blonde hair.
Same coat.
Same handbag.
Even the way she stood was identical.
But Vanessa insisted it wasn't her.
"Look at the date," she said.
Detective Harris checked.
The footage was recorded two days earlier.
Vanessa opened her phone and showed us a photograph.
It was taken at an airport in another state.
She had been visiting her mother that day.
David studied both images.
"Could someone have used your identification?""
Vanessa swallowed.
"I don't know.""
Detective Harris zoomed in on the woman in the footage.
"There's something unusual about her left hand.""
Vanessa leaned closer.
The woman in the driveway wore a silver ring.
Vanessa looked down at her own hand.
"I don't wear rings.""
I stared at the screen.
Then I noticed something.
The woman was carrying a handbag with a small gold chain.
Vanessa's handbag had a leather strap.
"That's not her bag," I said.
The detective nodded.
"We'll investigate.""
Vanessa began crying.
"Mark has been using my identity.""
David looked at her.
"Why would he do that?""
She wiped her cheeks.
"Because I have access to his office accounts. If he needed someone to enter the house or deliver documents, he could make it look like I did it.""
James joined the conversation through a secure call.
"That could also explain the fabricated messages and the false authorization records.""
Detective Harris nodded.
"Send us every document Vanessa has. We'll compare the digital timestamps and access logs.""
Then she looked at Vanessa.
"Did you ever give Mark copies of your identification?""
Vanessa nodded slowly.
"When I started working for him. He needed it for payroll and company registration.""
"Did you authorize him to use it for other purposes?""
"No.""
Detective Harris closed her notebook.
"Then we may have another identity-theft investigation.""
I sat back.
My husband had stolen my signatures.
Now he might have stolen his assistant's identity.
How many people had he turned into weapons?
That evening, David received a call from Richard Cole.
This time, Richard agreed to meet at the police station.
We arrived separately.
Two officers escorted us into a small interview room.
Richard was already there.
He looked much older than the photographs I had seen. His gray hair was untidy, and his expensive suit was wrinkled.
He stood when he saw David.
"Mr. Collins.""
David didn't offer his hand.
"You have a lot to explain.""
Richard nodded.
"I know.""
He sat down and placed a thick folder on the table.
"I worked for Mark for six years. At first, everything was legitimate. But Victor started pushing him into transactions that weren't properly documented.""
"Why didn't you report it?"" James asked.
Richard looked down.
"Because I was paid.""
The honesty of the answer surprised me.
He continued.
"I told myself it was business. I moved money between companies, prepared tax documents, and handled property applications. I didn't ask questions.""
"Until Sarah's inheritance?"" David asked.
Richard nodded.
"That's when I realized how far Mark was willing to go.""
He opened the folder.
Inside were bank transfers, emails, and company records.
"Your sister's inheritance was transferred through Northbridge Consulting. Some of it was used to purchase commercial property. Some went to Victor.""
I leaned forward.
"How much can I recover?""
"That's difficult to say. But I have records showing approximately two hundred and seventy thousand dollars remains in accounts connected to the company.""
My breath caught.
"Where?""
"Three accounts. Two domestic, one offshore.""
James immediately photographed the documents.
"Can you identify the account holders?""
Richard nodded.
"Yes.""
He turned another page.
Then he pointed to a payment record.
"There's also a transfer to Dr. Bennett.""
Forty-five thousand dollars.
The same amount the insurance investigator had identified.
David leaned forward.
"What was it for?""
Richard hesitated.
"Medical consulting.""
"That's what the paperwork says. What was it actually for?""
Richard looked at me.
"To make sure the medical records supported Mark's version of events.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What version?""
"That you were emotionally unstable, financially irresponsible, and unable to make independent decisions.""
I shook my head.
"Why would a doctor agree to that?""
Richard gave a bitter laugh.
"Because Victor had something on him.""
"What?""
"A previous malpractice complaint. Victor threatened to make it public unless Bennett cooperated.""
Detective Harris wrote everything down.
Then Richard reached into his folder and removed another document.
"This is the one I was afraid to show you.""
It was a hospital scheduling request.
My name appeared at the top.
Below it was a proposed delivery date.
But the date was wrong.
It was two weeks earlier than my actual due date.
I stared at it.
"Who changed this?""
Richard pointed to the authorization field.
"Mark.""
David looked at the document.
"Why move the delivery date?""
Richard's hands began trembling.
"Because Victor wanted the baby born before the financial transfer was finalized.""
"Why?""
Richard looked directly at me.
"Because the custody arrangement only worked if Mark could establish that you were medically incapable of caring for the child immediately after birth.""
I couldn't speak.
James asked, "Was the transfer ever approved?""
"No. But someone at the private facility accepted the request.""
Detective Harris leaned forward.
"Who?""
Richard pointed to a name.
It wasn't Dr. Bennett.
It wasn't Daniel Price.
It was a woman named Patricia Wells.
I recognized the name immediately.
She was the senior maternity nurse who had assisted during my second prenatal examination.
The same woman who had smiled at me and told me my daughter was developing beautifully.
I looked at David.
"She knows Mark?""
Richard nodded.
"She's been receiving payments from Victor's company for months.""
Detective Harris stood.
"That's enough. We need to contact the hospital immediately.""
But Richard wasn't finished.
He opened a final envelope.
Inside was a photograph of a small office at Mercer Women's Surgical Center.
On the desk was a folder with my name.
Beside it was a printed photograph of my daughter from the latest ultrasound.
And beneath the photograph was a handwritten note.
Once the baby is delivered, make sure Sarah is kept under observation until the custody papers are signed.
I felt tears spill down my face.
David wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
Then Richard whispered something.
"There's one more person you should know about.""
"Who?"" David asked.
Richard looked toward the interview-room door.
"Mark's mother.""
I frowned.
"What does his mother have to do with this?""
May you like
Richard lowered his voice.
"She wasn't just aware of the plan. She helped create it.""
