Page 31 of The Guilty One
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CELINE
“I don’t understand. What do you mean everything is gone?” I stare at the detective, hoping with all hope that this is some sort of prank.
Tate convinced me to put our money into an investment account rather than a traditional 401k years ago because he said it would be easier to get to it if we ever needed it. But he wouldn’t have stolen it from us, would he? He wouldn’t have taken all our savings, the nest egg we built for the boys’ futures, without telling me. I have to believe that, but the longer I hold onto the version of my husband I thought I knew, the more and more I look and feel like a fool.
“The day before your husband disappeared, there was a withdrawal of the full amount made.”
My voice is breathless. “I don’t…I mean…how could he…where did it go? Where is the money?”
“We’re trying to figure that out right now, and we should have the answers within the next day or so, but I was hoping you could help us without waiting for the paper trail to turn up.”
“I have no idea. Tate never said anything. I wouldn’t…I mean, he wouldn’t…” I gather my composure, stilling the shake in my voice. “He never mentioned taking any money out of our account and definitely not all of it. I would’ve never been okay with that unless it was for an emergency, and even then, we would’ve figured out another way.”
“Were you having money problems? Had a big expense come up that would’ve caused you to need that savings?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars?” I ask, my voice skeptical. “No, I think I would’ve remembered that.”
“And it’s not in your bank account?”
“I…” I pause. “I haven’t actually checked our account since he disappeared.” I guess that’s one of the first things I should’ve done, now that I’m thinking about it. For all I know, he’s cleaned us completely out of everything we own. For all I know, I’m officially broke. I’m not one of those wives who never looks at their accounts, but for the most part things come out automatically and neither of us has to check them that often. And neither of us check the investment account except once a year when we look to make sure we haven’t lost it all. When we first invested, it became a habit to obsess over it constantly, but every time the market was down, we’d go into a panic, so we’ve learned to let it go and avoid checking it as much as possible.
And as for the main account, we look over it when we pay our bills or make a major purchase, but we’ve always been good about saving, so it’s usually not something I think about, especially with so much on my mind. I put gas in the car with a credit card earlier without a second thought.
Tate wouldn’t empty our account. Whatever is going on…he wouldn’t leave us penniless, would he? He wouldn’t leave us with nothing.
“Do you mind?” the detective asks, stepping closer.
“Yeah, sure.” I nod, returning to the car to get my phone. Once I have it, I open up my banking app and log in. Relief floods my system when I see our accounts are untouched. “Everything looks the same, but the money from our investment account wasn’t deposited into this one.” I turn the phone back around so he can see it. “Maybe it takes a few days?”
He tucks his notebook back into his pocket. “Maybe. Not typically, but tell us if you see anything suspicious on your account. In the meantime, you might want to close those accounts and transfer the money into one with only your name on it. Just in case.”
“Just in case…my husband tries to steal more from me?”
He doesn’t respond except to continue staring at me, like that’s answer enough.
“You don’t think something bad has happened to him, then? You think he’s stolen our money and left me? Skipped town? Ran away without saying goodbye?” The words wash over me as I say them, as real and painful as ever. It’s getting harder and harder to deny that’s what this looks like.
“They don’t pay me to assume or to speculate. Until we find your husband, there’s no way to know.” He presses his lips together, turning to walk away, but stops and looks back at me. “We still don’t have an explanation about the car accident, but, in looking at everything else— lying about a vacation and the missing money—well…in my experience, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, Mrs. Thompson, it’s usually a duck.” He does a sort of two-finger salute, then nods. “Take care of yourself. We’ll be in touch.” With another wave of his hand, he’s back in the car and disappearing down the drive.
I gather my things, still shaken up over all that I’ve learned and head for the house. I don’t know if I’m more furious or distraught as both emotions wage war inside of me, my stomach rumbling as if I might be sick. The back of my throat is thick with cotton, an unbearable feeling that I can’t seem to be rid of. How could he do this to me? Why would he do this to me? Through it all, I want to believe there’s a reason. That he was forced. That he did it to protect me somehow. But it doesn’t make sense. He lied over and over, about the vacation, about the money.
I’m scared for him. Worried he’s in danger and the police are spending so much time trying to figure out why he lied and accusing him of the things that by the time we find him, it’ll be too late. I can’t fathom the thought. I have to try harder, but I also can’t be foolish or blinded by my love for him. I have to accept that he could’ve lied, that he has lied. That he could’ve left us.
I’m so torn about everything.
Tate wouldn’t leave me.
Tate wouldn’t lie.
Except that he did. And he has.
I’m reanalyzing every interaction we’ve had lately. Did he seem unhappy? Did he seem sad? When he told me goodbye that morning, did he seem like he was saying more than goodbye for the day? Did it feel like a final goodbye? How could he kiss me so casually, hold me for such a short time, if he knew it was going to be forever? Did I really mean so little to him? And what about the boys? How could he have not taken longer with them that morning? Said more? How dare he do this to them!
I’m still vacillating between rage and sadness as I make my way toward the front door, and Mom meets me.
“What was that about?” she asks, keeping her voice low.