“Think you can hide? The money belongs to your husband. If you don’t come back, get ready to lose Nathan. We have the CPS investigators in our pocket.”
Bill took a screenshot and traced the number.
— Prepaid SIM, bought at a gas station. But they got the number somehow, — he noted. — Andrew’s got someone feeding him info. Good. This goes in the “harassment” file.
Then Linda called Dave directly. The FaceTime call caught Dave in the kitchen, drinking cold coffee and trying to keep his heart rate down.
Linda’s face appeared on the screen. She looked perfectly put-together, wearing that “concerned educator” expression she used to intimidate parents. Behind her, Dave recognized the living room of Sarah’s new house. New curtains, expensive furniture. They were already making themselves at home.
— Dave, — Linda’s voice was like honey. — Let’s be civilized. Sarah is clearly having a mental health crisis. Postpartum depression, hysteria—it happens. She’s simply not in a state to care for a child.
Andrew appeared over her shoulder, a smug smirk on his face.
— If you don’t bring her back, — he added, — the police report goes live tomorrow. And Nathan won’t be staying with a woman who lives under a bridge.
Dave stared at the screen, memorizing every word, every sneer.
— Linda, — he said finally. — Remember this conversation.
He hung up.
Bill saved the recording. Frank nodded:
— We have enough.
It was time for a counter-strike. Dave arranged a meeting at a quiet bistro downtown, sending Linda a message that sounded defeated. He claimed he was tired, didn’t want a scandal, and was ready to discuss a “settlement.” She agreed instantly—she was used to people folding under her pressure.
Dave arrived alone, wearing an old work shirt, no watch. He wanted to look like a broken old man whose fire had gone out. Linda met him with fake sympathy, reaching out to pat his hand.
— Dave, I know this is hard. Sarah was always a bit… difficult, wasn’t she?
Andrew sat next to her, looking like a realtor about to close the deal of a lifetime. Dave lowered his head, rubbing his temples. He was playing the part, just like he used to play the “dumb mechanic” when vendors tried to overcharge him.
— I just want things back to normal. The house, the car, the money… my daughter.
Linda gave a condescending little laugh.
— Dave, the house is marital property. They’re married. It’s Andrew’s house too.
— And the savings?
— What about them? — Andrew shrugged. — It’s a joint account. I’m the husband. I spent it on family expenses. That’s perfectly legal.
Dave’s phone was in his front pocket, recording every word. Linda was on a roll now:
— The property is a civil matter. And if Sarah wants to see the baby, she needs to show she’s stable first…
Suddenly, Dave’s phone chirped loudly: “Warning! Storage full. Please delete files.”
Linda stopped. Andrew tensed up. Dave calmly pulled out the phone, looked at the screen, shook his head, and put it back.
— Just a reminder. My blood pressure meds. My memory isn’t what it used to be, Linda. Old age, I guess.
She relaxed, visibly.
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