Chapter 7: Someone Had Been Inside Our House
The photograph was taken at 8:42 that morning.
Marcus was standing beside his car, holding a travel mug and checking something on his phone. The front door was visible behind him. The photographer had been standing somewhere inside our property, close enough to capture the small scar above his left eyebrow.
I stared at the image.
“Where did this come from?”” I asked.
The officer, whose name was Detective Harris, turned his notebook toward me.
“It was attached to a message sent from an account associated with David Harlan.””
“That's impossible.””
“Why?””
“Because nobody was inside the house.””
Detective Harris studied me.
“Are you certain?””
I looked toward the hallway.
Our house had a side entrance, a garage, a back patio, and a basement door that opened toward the garden. There were several ways someone could enter without using the front door.
But the security system should have recorded everything.
Unless someone had disabled it.
“Check the cameras,” I whispered.
Detective Harris nodded to his partner.
“Have the technicians preserve the system. Don't let anyone access the recordings until they've been copied.””
Then he turned back toward me.
“Mrs. Reed, when was the last time you saw David Harlan in person?””
“Never.””
“Have you spoken to him?””
“Only through messages and phone calls.””
“Who introduced you?””
I hesitated.
“My brother.””
“Raymond?””
I nodded.
Detective Harris looked toward the front entrance, where another officer was speaking to Raymond.
“Your brother says he met Harlan through a former business associate.””
“That sounds right.””
“And your husband?””
“Marcus has never met him.””
The detective paused.
“Are you sure?””
I frowned.
“What are you suggesting?””
He placed another photograph on the table.
This one showed Marcus sitting in a restaurant.
Across from him sat a man wearing a dark baseball cap.
I recognized the restaurant.
It was a steakhouse in Bethesda where Marcus occasionally met developers.
The date was six months earlier.
Marcus was smiling.
The man across from him was David Harlan.
I stared at the photograph.
“That's not possible.””
Detective Harris watched me carefully.
“Your husband says he doesn't know this man.””
I shook my head.
“Maybe they met through business.””
“That's what we're trying to establish.””
He turned the photograph around.
There was a handwritten note on the back.
He doesn't know what he's signing yet.
My hands began trembling.
“Who wrote that?””
“We don't know.””
I looked toward the hallway.
“Raymond.””
The detective followed my gaze.
“Your brother is being interviewed.””
I swallowed.
“Can I speak to him?””
“Not right now.””
“Please. He needs to explain.””
Detective Harris closed his notebook.
“Mrs. Reed, I think you need to understand that this investigation may be much larger than the financial arrangements you've described.””
I wanted to argue.
But before I could, an officer entered the kitchen.
“Detective, we found something.””
He held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a small electronic device.
“What is that?”” I asked.
“A wireless transmitter.””
The officer placed it on the table.
“It was attached beneath the desk in the study.””
My mouth went dry.
The study.
Marcus's study.
The room where he handled confidential contracts, reviewed company accounts, and spoke to his attorneys.
“How long has it been there?””
“We're still determining that.””
Detective Harris looked at me.
“Who had access to the study?””
“Marcus. Me. Raymond. Sometimes the housekeeper.””
“Anyone else?””
I shook my head.
Then I remembered something.
Three months earlier, Raymond had offered to help Marcus install a new printer.
He had spent nearly an hour in the study.
Marcus had thanked him afterward.
I whispered, “Raymond.””
The detective said nothing.
My phone vibrated again.
Another message.
This one contained only six words.
You should have kept your son quiet.
I pushed the phone away.
Detective Harris read it.
“Did you receive that from the same number?””
I nodded.
He took a photograph of the screen.
“Don't respond.””
Then he asked me to explain exactly how the money had been borrowed.
I told him about the original property investment.
I told him about the collapsing development project, the growing debt, and Raymond's introduction to Harlan.
I admitted that I had transferred money from an account connected to Marcus's company.
I also admitted that I had helped prepare the guardianship documents.
But when the detective asked about the white powder, I couldn't give him a complete answer.
“I was told it was a supplement,” I repeated.
“By whom?””
“Raymond.””
“Did you ever verify what it was?””
“No.””
“Did you ever ask a doctor?””
“No.””
He wrote something down.
“Did you notice any changes in your husband's health?””
I looked toward the hospital entrance in my mind.
“Yes.””
“What changes?””
“He became dizzy. Sometimes he complained about headaches. He said he couldn't concentrate.””
“And you continued giving him the substance?””
I lowered my head.
“Yes.””
The detective stopped writing.
“Mrs. Reed, I need you to understand the seriousness of that answer.””
I did.
For the first time, I understood that Marcus might not simply have been frightened by the idea of what I had done.
He might actually have been injured.
A few minutes later, Detective Harris received a phone call.
He listened carefully.
Then his expression changed.
“What do you mean the cameras were disabled?””
He looked at the officer.
“Which ones?””
A pause.
“All of them?””
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“What happened?””
“Someone disabled the interior camera system at 8:51 this morning.””
“But Jordan's recording—”
“Was already saved to his personal device.””
I felt a strange mixture of relief and terror.
The detective continued.
“The exterior cameras show a vehicle entering your driveway at 7:36 a.m. The driver remained inside for eleven minutes.””
“Who?””
“We're checking the registration.””
He turned his phone toward me.
A photograph showed a black SUV parked near the garage.
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to Raymond.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The driver's door was open.
A second man was standing beside the vehicle.
A man wearing a dark baseball cap.
David Harlan.
I stared at the screen.
“He was here?””
Detective Harris nodded.
“According to the footage, yes.””
My stomach twisted.
“Did he enter the house?””
“We don't know yet.””
The detective's phone rang again.
This time, he answered immediately.
“Go ahead.””
He listened.
Then his eyes moved toward me.
“Are you certain?””
Another pause.
“Send the information to the hospital and have someone notify Reed.””
He ended the call.
I stood.
“What happened?””
Detective Harris looked at me.
“Your husband has been admitted for further testing.””
“Why?””
“The hospital found evidence that he may have been exposed to an unidentified substance.””
My knees weakened.
“Is he going to be okay?””
“We don't have those results yet.””
I covered my mouth.
Then the detective added:
“There's something else.””
“What?””
“The hospital has received a call from someone claiming to be a physician treating your husband.””
I frowned.
“Which physician?””
“Dr. Leonard Price.””
I stared.
The same name from the prescription bottle.
The same name connected to the forged medical report.
The detective lowered his voice.
“Mrs. Reed, Dr. Price has not been authorized to treat your husband.””
He paused.
“And the hospital says someone attempted to obtain Marcus's medical records using a forged authorization.””
I felt the room spinning.
“Who?””
“The request was submitted under your name.””
I began shaking.
“I didn't do that.””
Detective Harris studied me.
“Then someone is still using your identity.””
He turned toward the hallway.
“Get a team to the hospital.””
Then he looked at me.
“Mrs. Reed, we're going to need to move you somewhere secure.””
Before I could respond, my phone rang.
This time, the number wasn't hidden.
It was Raymond.
I looked at Detective Harris.
He nodded.
“Answer it. Put it on speaker.””
I did.
“Raymond?””
His voice sounded strained.
“Danielle, listen to me carefully.””
“Where are you?””
“That's not important.””
“Did you know David was inside our house?””
Silence.
Then he whispered, “You shouldn't have let Jordan get involved.””
I closed my eyes.
“He's your son too.””
Raymond exhaled.
“That's exactly why I'm calling.””
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean?””
He spoke quickly.
“David has the original paperwork. Not the copies on your laptop. The original documents. And he knows Jordan has the recordings.””
“What does he want?””
“Everything.””
“Raymond, what have you done?””
His voice broke.
“I tried to stop him.””
“Stop who?””
Before he could answer, I heard a door slam on his end.
Then a man's voice.
“Give me the phone.””
Raymond whispered one final sentence.
“Danielle, whatever happens, don't let Marcus sign anything.””
The call ended.
Detective Harris immediately took my phone.
“Trace that number.””
He looked at his partner.
“Now.””
Then another call came through.
This time, it was the hospital.
The detective answered.
I watched his expression change.
First confusion.
Then disbelief.
Finally, something close to alarm.
He lowered the phone.
“Mrs. Reed?””
“Yes?””
“Your husband has regained consciousness.””
I almost collapsed with relief.
“Can I see him?””
The detective hesitated.
“There's a problem.””
“What problem?””
He looked at the phone again.
“Marcus is asking for you.””
I started toward the door.
Then the detective added:
May you like
“He says someone has just entered his hospital room claiming to be his attorney.””
And that person is carrying the original guardianship papers.
