Then she reached across the space between them and placed her hand over his.
“You came home,” she said.
“It was almost too late.”
“But it wasn’t.”
David looked at her.
For the first time that night, there was no fear in Maya’s expression. Only exhaustion, hurt, and something cautious but still alive between them.
Trust had not returned.
But perhaps it had not completely left.
A knock sounded at the door.
Daniel stepped inside carrying a laptop bag, a paper cup of coffee, and an expression that told David he had not slept.
“You look terrible,” David said.
“So do you.”
Daniel pulled the visitor chair closer.
“I spoke to a private investigator I’ve worked with before,” he said. “I also contacted the insurance company again. They won’t release everything without formal authorization, but I learned a few things.”
Maya adjusted her pillow.
“About Marisol?”
“About Marisol, Samuel Reeves, and David’s father.”
Daniel opened his laptop.
“Hudson Family Consulting was registered by Samuel Reeves, but the company hasn’t reported any normal business activity. It appears to exist mainly to receive money.”
“From my mother and from Maya,” David said.
“Yes. And probably from other people.”
Maya’s face tightened.
“Do you think my mother is involved?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel replied. “But based on what she said during the call, she may be a victim too.”
David stood near the window, gently rocking Liam.
“What about the insurance policy?”
Daniel turned the laptop toward them.
“Your father, Thomas Bennett, owned several small rental buildings with Samuel Reeves. Six weeks before Thomas died, he changed the beneficiary on one life insurance policy from Eleanor Bennett to Marisol Santos.”
“Why?”
“The form doesn’t say.”
“And the note about a daughter?”
“It was attached to the paperwork. The insurer kept a scanned copy.”
Daniel clicked on a file.
A handwritten note appeared on the screen.
The ink was faded, but David recognized the slant of the letters immediately.
His father’s handwriting.
If anything happens to me, please contact Marisol Santos. The funds are for her and our daughter. Eleanor must not control this money.
Maya covered her mouth.
David read the sentence again.
Then again.
The words did not change.
“Our daughter,” he whispered.
Maya turned toward him.
“We don’t know what he meant.”
“What else could it mean?”
“We don’t know.”
David looked at her face, searching unconsciously for signs of his father.
The shape of her eyes.
