Chapter 3 - NATALIE’S FIRST LIE
Natalie Brooks spent the night in an interview room beneath the Chicago Police Department’s central district.
She refused to answer questions until her attorney arrived.
By noon, her attorney had not appeared.
Detective Ruiz told me that was unusual.
“Natalie works as financial controller for the Carter Foundation,” she said.
“Someone in that position normally has access to immediate corporate counsel.”
“Unless the corporation has decided she is disposable.”
Ruiz did not disagree.
Sophie had been discharged under strict instructions to rest.
Maya arranged a secure suite at the Whitmore Hotel.
Charlotte Whitmore, Preston’s bride, had not contacted me.
I did not know whether she was protecting him, hiding from him, or simply trying to understand what kind of man she had married.
A hotel nurse remained with Sophie while I went to the police station.
I told myself I was there to understand the conspiracy.
The truth was simpler.
I needed to look Natalie in the eyes.
She entered the interview room wearing gray jail clothing.
Her hair had fallen from its elegant twist.
Without makeup and carefully chosen lighting, she looked exhausted.
She sat across from me.
Detective Ruiz remained near the door.
Natalie stared at the table.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You put a stolen phone in my daughter’s jacket.”
Her lips trembled.
“I know.”
“You stood beside me after Preston hit her.”
“I know.”
“You watched her bleed.”
“I didn’t know he would touch her.”
“That sentence does not help you.”
She closed her eyes.
“I was told it would be a performance.”
“What performance?”
“Preston would announce the missing phone.”
“He would find it.”
“Your parents would threaten to involve the police.”
“You would sign the resignation.”
“And then everyone would say Sophie had made a childish mistake.”
“You believed that?”
“I wanted to.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Natalie looked up.
Tears filled her eyes.
I felt nothing.
“What did you take from my handbag?”
“Your wallet.”
“What did you give my father?”
“A memory card.”
My breathing stopped.
“What was on it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Another lie.”
“I never opened it.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Inside the lining of your handbag.”
I remembered Natalie holding the bag while I helped Sophie retie her flower-girl ribbon.
She must have known exactly where to search.
“How did you know it was there?”
“Preston told me.”
“How did he know?”
Natalie looked toward Ruiz.
The detective’s expression remained unreadable.
“Your late husband,” Natalie whispered.
My chest tightened.
Daniel had died four years earlier in a highway accident.
He had been an accountant specializing in nonprofit compliance.
Before his death, he occasionally reviewed Carter Foundation reports at my father’s request.
“What does Daniel have to do with this?”
“He found things.”
“What things?”
“Vendor invoices.”
“Properties purchased through shell companies.”
“Money transferred out of scholarship accounts.”
“He copied everything.”
I stared at her.
“Daniel told you?”
“He asked me to help him verify the records.”
“And you told Preston.”
“No.”
Her answer came too quickly.
“Natalie.”
“I didn’t tell Preston until after Daniel died.”
The room became very still.
“Why?”
“Because Preston already knew I had helped.”
“He showed me photographs of my brother.”
“Your brother lives in Denver.”
“He was in debt.”
“Gambling.”
“Drugs.”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“Preston bought the debt.”
“Then he told me if I did not cooperate, the people holding it would collect from my brother directly.”
“So you gave him Daniel’s evidence.”
“Only part of it.”
“What happened to the rest?”
“Daniel hid a final copy.”
“Where?”
“I never knew.”
“But Preston believed he placed the location on the memory card inside your bag.”
I thought of the brass key.
The bank box.
My grandmother’s missing internal report.
Daniel had been connecting the same crimes before his death.
“Did Preston cause Daniel’s accident?”
Natalie’s face changed.
It lasted only a second.
But I saw it.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
She did.
The fear in her eyes was real.
“I heard Preston arguing with your father three days before Daniel died.”
“What did they say?”
“Harold said Daniel was becoming dangerous.”
“Preston said he would handle it.”
My hands curled into fists beneath the table.
“What does ‘handle it’ mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ask?”
“I was afraid.”
“You were always afraid at convenient times.”
She flinched.
The cruelty of my words did not trouble me.
Not yet.
“Were you sleeping with Preston?” I asked.
Natalie stopped breathing.
Detective Ruiz shifted near the door.
The silence answered.
“How long?”
“Evelyn—”
“How long?”
“Almost two years.”
The betrayal struck differently from the CCTV.
Natalie had stood beside me at Daniel’s funeral.
She had slept in my guest room for three nights because she claimed she did not want me to be alone.
During that time, she had already been involved with my brother.
“Did Daniel know?”
“No.”
“Did Preston ask you to become my friend?”
“No.”
“We were friends long before him.”
“That makes it worse.”
She covered her face.
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice remained quiet.
“You keep saying that as though knowledge is punishment.”
“It isn’t.”
“Sophie is the one in pain.”
“Daniel is the one in a grave.”
“And you are sitting here hoping fear will turn betrayal into innocence.”
Natalie lowered her hands.
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“All of it.”
She looked toward Ruiz.
Then she took a long breath.
“Preston did not plan the wedding trap alone.”
“Your father designed the resignation strategy.”
“Your mother invited the relatives who would pressure you.”
“I planted the phone.”
“Preston was supposed to recover it.”
“And after you signed, your father planned to have the hotel footage deleted.”
“Who ordered Preston to attack Sophie?”
“No one.”
Her voice cracked.
“That was him.”
I believed her.
Not because Preston deserved the distinction.
Because the violence had looked instinctive.
Entitlement without restraint.
“What is inside the deposit box?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But your father is terrified of it.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel visited First Lakeshore Bank the morning before he died.”
Natalie leaned closer.
“And because your grandmother was with him.”
The key had not been meant only for me.
It was the last link between my grandmother’s investigation and my husband’s death.
Before I left, Natalie called my name.
“There is one more thing.”
I stopped.
“Preston’s phone.”
“What about it?”
“The phone he planted in Sophie’s jacket was not his regular phone.”
“It was a duplicate.”
“Where is the real one?”
May you like
Natalie looked at Detective Ruiz.
“Inside the flower-girl basket.”
