Chapter 3 - The Second Phone
Mark did not give me his phone.
Detective Ortiz took it.
Police already had authority to examine communications related to the drug investigation.
Mark complained.
Then stopped when his attorney arrived.
That was when I knew our marriage had crossed into territory where ordinary explanations no longer mattered.
Emma spent another night under observation.
I slept beside her.
Mark slept nowhere near us.
At 6:20 the next morning, Ortiz called me into a consultation room.
“We found another device.”
“Where?”
“Mark's locker at work.”
A cheap prepaid phone.
My stomach dropped.
“What was on it?”
“Messages.”
“With Malcolm?”
“Yes.”
“Rachel?”
Ortiz watched me.
“Yes.”
I sat.
“How bad?”
“We're still processing it.”
“Tell me what you can.”
The earliest messages between Mark and Rachel were almost a year old.
At first they were financial.
Rachel:
How much this time?
Mark:
Twenty. Need it by Friday.
Rachel:
I said last time was the last time.
Mark:
Please.
Then:
If she sees the account we're both screwed.
Both.
I looked at Ortiz.
“What account?”
“We don't know yet.”
The messages became personal.
Not romantic.
Not at first.
Then something changed.
Rachel:
You can't keep showing up at my apartment after midnight.
Mark:
Then answer your phone.
Rachel:
She'll figure it out.
Mark:
She never notices anything about money.
I felt like I had been slapped.
Then came a message from six months earlier.
Rachel:
Last night cannot happen again.
Mark:
Agreed.
Rachel:
I mean it.
Mark:
So do I.
Nothing explicit.
Nothing needed to be.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
“Were they having an affair?”
“We don't know.”
“I do.”
“Don't jump ahead.”
“Detective.”
“I've seen messages that look worse than what they prove.”
I hated her discipline.
Because my marriage had none.
Then she showed me something else.
Mark and Rachel discussed an account labeled Harbor 7.
Money moved in.
Money moved out.
The total activity exceeded $400,000 over eleven months.
Some came from Mark.
Some from unknown deposits.
Some went to Rachel.
Some went to people identified only by initials.
Malcolm's initials appeared multiple times.
M.B.
“What is Harbor 7?”
“We've subpoenaed the records.”
“Is that where our missing savings went?”
“Possibly.”
My mouth went dry.
“How much of our money?”
“We don't know.”
Again those words.
I was beginning to hate them.
By afternoon, Rachel finally agreed to another interview.
She brought a lawyer.
Her story changed.
Yes, Mark owed her sixty thousand.
Yes, she knew about gambling.
Yes, she knew he had “access to medications.”
No, she didn't know he was selling them.
Yes, she had been in his car recently.
That last admission came only after Ortiz mentioned the lipstick trace.
“When?”
Rachel answered:
“Two nights before Emma's birthday.”
“Why?”
“He picked me up.”
“For?”
“To talk.”
“About what?”
“Money.”
“Did you touch anything beneath the driver's seat?”
“No.”
“Did you possess the vial?”
“No.”
“Did you place anything in Emma's drink?”
Rachel started crying.
“No.”
“You already admitted preparing it.”
“I made lemonade.”
“Did you add anything else?”
“No.”
“Why did you tell Emma not to touch Mark's blue glass?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I don't remember.”
“Emma does.”
“I was probably joking.”
“Why did you lie about Mark being beside you in the kitchen?”
Rachel's attorney interrupted.
“She may have misremembered during a traumatic event.”
Ortiz ignored him.
“Rachel?”
My sister stared at the table.
“I thought he was there.”
That was a lie.
I knew her.
Then Ortiz asked:
“Were you sleeping with Mark?”
Rachel's head snapped up.
“No.”
Too fast.
Her attorney closed his eyes.
Ortiz leaned forward.
“Rachel.”
“No.”
“Your communications suggest otherwise.”
“We made a mistake once.”
My heart stopped.
One mistake.
Just like that.
A marriage reduced to three words.
Ortiz asked:
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“How many times?”
“Once.”
“Where?”
Rachel looked away.
“My apartment.”
“Did your sister know?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“No.”
“Did you continue a financial relationship afterward?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Mark owed me money.”
I couldn't listen anymore.
I walked out.
Rachel called my name.
I didn't stop.
My phone rang before I reached the parking lot.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then Malcolm's voice said:
“Now you know about Rachel.”
I stopped walking.
“How did you get this number?”
“You should ask Mark how many people he's given it to.”
I wanted to hang up.
Instead I asked:
“What is Harbor 7?”
Silence.
Then Malcolm said:
“That's where your husband sold your life one withdrawal at a time.”
“What does that mean?”
“The account wasn't for gambling.”
“What was it for?”
“Distribution.”
My stomach twisted.
“Drugs?”
“Yes.”
“Rachel was involved?”
Another pause.
“Rachel controlled it.”
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
May you like
Then Malcolm added:
“And if she is telling police she only made one mistake with your husband, she's still lying.”
