Chapter 3 - What Amy Never Told Me
Frederick’s temperature was 103.1 degrees.
The pediatric ER doctor reassured us that the fever was serious but treatable.
An ear infection.
Dehydration.
Exhaustion.
My son was given fluids and medication.
Within two hours, he was sleeping against Amy’s chest.
I sat beside the hospital bed.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then I asked the question I was afraid to ask.
“How long has this been happening?”
Amy stared at Frederick.
“What do you mean?”
“My mother.”
Silence.
“Amy.”
She finally looked at me.
“Since Frederick was born.”
I felt sick.
“She’s been treating you like this for a year?”
“Not every day.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Amy sighed.
“It started with comments.”
“What comments?”
“She said I wasn’t keeping the house clean enough.”
I looked at her.
“Our house is always clean.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“She said you were stressed because I spent too much money.”
“That’s not true.”
“I know that now.”
“Now?”
Amy gave a small, bitter laugh.
“Connor, she told me you had asked her to control the household budget.”
I stared at her.
“I never said that.”
“She showed me spreadsheets.”
“What spreadsheets?”
“Groceries. Utilities. Baby expenses.”
My mind raced.
“She told me the three thousand dollars I sent her was for helping you.”
Amy shook her head slowly.
“She told me you were sending it because I couldn’t manage money.”
I stood.
“What?”
“She said you didn’t want to embarrass me by saying it directly.”
“Why would you believe that?”
The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Amy’s face changed.
“Because you never talked to me about the money.”
She was right.
I sat down again.
She continued.
“And every time I asked you if everything was okay, you said, ‘Mom’s helping us.’”
My stomach twisted.
“I thought she was.”
“So did I.”
Amy looked down.
“Then she started making decisions.”
“Like what?”
“She changed the grocery deliveries. She told your relatives they could come over whenever they wanted. She took my spare key.”
“She has a key?”
“She said you gave her one.”
“I didn’t.”
Amy nodded as if she had expected that answer.
“What else?”
“She asked me to sign some papers.”
My entire body tensed.
“What papers?”
“I didn’t sign them.”
“Thank God.”
“She said they were insurance forms because Frederick was your beneficiary.”
“Where are they?”
“I took pictures.”
“With the phone she took?”
Amy nodded.
“If she didn’t delete them.”
I reached for my phone.
“We need yours back.”
A nurse entered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bradley?”
“Yes?”
“Your son’s fever is coming down nicely.”
Amy nearly sagged with relief.
“Thank you.”
“He needs rest, fluids, and antibiotics. We’d like to observe him a little longer, but he’s responding well.”
After the nurse left, I took Amy’s hand.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at me.
“For what?”
“For not seeing it.”
“You were working.”
“That isn’t an excuse.”
“No. But she was careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was wonderful whenever you were around.”
That sounded exactly like my mother.
My phone rang.
Officer Daniels.
“Mr. Bradley?”
“Yes.”
“We recovered your wife’s phone.”
I looked at Amy.
“Was anything deleted?”
“We haven’t searched it. We’ll return it once it’s documented.”
“Okay.”
“There’s more.”
My stomach sank.
“What?”
“We found financial documents in your home office that appear to involve your mother and an individual named Raymond Keller.”
“That’s my mother’s brother.”
“Your uncle?”
“Yes.”
“We also found photocopies of your signature.”
I closed my eyes.
Amy heard enough to understand.
She whispered, “Connor…”
Officer Daniels continued.
“There are property transfer forms.”
“What kind?”
“I’m not going to speculate. A detective will explain it. But based on what we’ve found, you should contact your bank immediately.”
I stood again.
“Why?”
“Because we also found copies of account statements.”
After hanging up, I logged into our accounts.
For years, I had kept most household savings in one primary account.
Nothing looked obviously missing.
Then Amy leaned closer.
“What’s that?”
A recurring transfer.
Three thousand dollars monthly to my mother.
But beneath it were smaller transactions.
Nine hundred.
Twelve hundred.
Six hundred fifty.
Different descriptions.
Household reimbursement.
Baby expenses.
Property maintenance.
I stared.
“I didn’t authorize these.”
Amy covered her mouth.
“How much?”
I started scrolling.
Six months.
Nine months.
A year.
My heart sank lower with every line.
At minimum, tens of thousands of dollars had moved beyond the three thousand I knowingly sent.
My phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Connor?”
It was Mason.
“What do you want?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“You should tell the police.”
“I already did.”
“What?”
He sounded terrified.
“Your mother wasn’t just trying to transfer the house.”
My grip tightened.
“What was she trying to do?”
May you like
“She wanted control of everything.”
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