Chapter 11
Cynthia
Sunday 10.12am
While my father and sister are in church, carrying on as usual, I’m drinking my third coffee, terrified out of my mind, and close to crying as my lawyer explains what the police will charge me with.
I have never felt so abandoned in my entire life. Dad had to go to tell the elders, so the second he called a lawyer for me, he left.
I can’t call anyone, and I’m not allowed visitors so even calling Lacey for emotional support isn’t an option.
Since Myra is a member of the church and is one of the people who has always looked at me sideways, I shouldn’t be surprised her voice is dripping with contempt as she reads through my file.
“You weren’t ever formally charged with anything, but I’m afraid the DA will be looking for character witnesses to help build her case. Is there anyone you can think of that might have something damaging to say about you?”
I can think of an alarming amount of people. “Mrs. Parsons? The owner of the convenience store. I stole a pack of gum from when I was seven. She hates me. Jerry Walker, he’s convinced I bought his son beer, then there’s my high school art teacher, Julia Cooper who accused me of stealing supplies…do I need to go on?”
Her lips press together, and I can see her considering walking away before she’s tainted by association.
“Yes, well those sorts of things aren’t helping. Even with your father’s standing in the community, I’m afraid the evidence is strong enough for the police to charge you.”
“This is ridiculous. I have thirty-seven dollars in the bank!”
She taps a bank statement. “But this is your account?”
I scan the paper and have to read the name twice because I realize it’s mine.
“I don’t have an account at Western Savings. I mean, not anymore, maybe as a kid.”
Her disbelief only seems to grow. “You’ve not been depositing money into it?”
I groan and place my head in my hands. “My mom opened bank accounts for us. I think she put fifty dollars into it or something. I’d forgotten it existed until you showed me just now.”
She scrawls something in shorthand on her notepad. “Did you ever withdraw money from it?”
I’m so tired I can barely think. “No. I don’t think I put money into it either.”
She eyes me. “Did Trudy use hers?”
I shrug. “You’d have to ask her that.”
A cautious smile appears before she grabs her phone. “I’ll go do that now.”
I’m so beyond tired, I just nod meekly as she closes the door.
***
Becker
I’m sitting in my truck, a block away from Matthew’s house, with around three years worth of accounts when I know I have enough to act.
I find the name and number I need and hope she’s willing to negotiate.
“Hey there, handsome. I heard you were visiting Britt, when do I get the privilege?”
“You know me, I don’t stay in one place long enough for privileges.”
She laughs. “This is true. So what do I owe the pleasure then?”
“You’re the prosecution on the Cynthia Wyatt case.”
“You haven’t changed. Straight to the point. But yes, I just got handed the file. Quite the scandal. Why what’s your interest?”
“I may have some information for you.”
“You may have? I’m going to need more than that.”
“I have a better suspect. “
“I’m listening.”
I relay everything I have, and my contact, and wait. “You know this is inadmissible, Becker. Even if it’s true.”
“So, we get a warrant.”
“Based on what? Your gut? No judge would touch this case.”
“What if I told you I’m pretty sure I have one that will?”
“Do you have any idea of the damage this will do?”
“Probably not. But that’s not a good enough reason to waste time and money on the wrong person.”
She blows out a breath. “I’m not promising anything. But send me what you have, get a Judge on board and I’ll see what I can do.”
One phone call down, I dial again and jam the phone against my ear as I wait.
“Hey. It’s me. You were right. I found something.”
“You have solid evidence?”
“Yeah. Monies were funneled through two accounts and all leading in one place. I’ve just emailed it to you and to the DA.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Just shy of a fifty K, moved around from account to account over the last three years.”
“What’s it been used for?”
“Not for the purposes it was donated. But as far as I can see, it’s not lined anyone’s pockets.”
“Opening the email now. Well, I’ll be, this complicates things even further.”
“Yeah, but it explains a lot.”
He sighs heavily. “This is the part where you ask me for leniency?”
I nod. “A degree of.”
I wait him out and know I’m going to get the result I need when he exhales. “And what about Cynthia Wyatt?”
“Collateral damage.”
I can almost picture him sitting in his leather chair in his chambers and steepling his fingers. “Someone needs to serve time. Misappropriating funds is still a crime.”
I nod. “I know. But if we don’t act fast, the wrong person will be all over the papers tomorrow morning.”
He nods his agreement. “I concur. Leave it with me, and I’ll talk to the DA. And Becker?”
“Yeah?”
“Say hello to your mom for me,” he says.
