At eight the next morning, Warren called before I had finished my coffee.
“Rafael agreed to meet.”
“When?”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Where?”
“My office.”
“That was fast.”
“His attorney became interested when I mentioned Gwendolyn.”
“Interested how?”
“Enough to advise him to cooperate.”
I looked at the clock.
“Does Gwendolyn know?”
“Not from us.”
“And the storage unit?”
“I spoke to an investigator last night. Based on the documents you provided, they are moving quickly.”
“How quickly?”
“I am not promising a search.”
“But?”
“But you were right not to go there yourself.”
That answer told me enough.
I dressed, gathered Mom's letter and the photograph Chloe had given me, then drove downtown.
Dad was already in Warren's conference room when I arrived.
I stopped in the doorway.
He stood awkwardly.
“Warren called me.”
I looked at Warren.
“He has direct ownership interest in some of the accounts.”
“Fine.”
Dad's eyes were swollen from lack of sleep.
“I'm not trying to force myself into anything.”
“Sit.”
He did.
At ten twenty-seven, Rafael Mendoza entered with an attorney.
The man in Chloe's childhood photograph had aged hard.
His hair was mostly gray now. Deep lines framed his mouth, and he moved with the alert caution of someone accustomed to evaluating exits.
His gaze landed on Dad first.
Then me.
Then the photograph lying on the table.
Rafael stopped.
“Where did you get that?”
“Chloe kept it,” I said.
Something changed in his face.
“Chloe.”
The way he said her name answered one question before any test could.
Dad heard it too.
Rafael sat slowly.
His attorney introduced himself, but the names blurred past me.
Warren began carefully.
“We are trying to establish the history of your relationship with Gwendolyn and understand several financial transactions that may overlap with matters you have knowledge of.”
Rafael gave a dry laugh.
“That woman finally run out of people to steal from?”
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Start at the beginning.”
Rafael looked at him.
“You Samuel?”
“Yes.”
“The rich husband.”
Dad's expression hardened.
“Apparently.”
Rafael leaned back.
“I wondered if she ever told you about me.”
“She didn't.”
“That sounds like Gwen.”
“Were you married?”
Rafael glanced at his attorney.
The attorney nodded.
“Yes,” Rafael said.
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
Dad looked at Warren.
“Before Chloe was born.”
“Yes.”
“Did you divorce?”
Rafael smiled without humor.
“I tried.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she disappeared.”
Rafael folded his hands.
“We were together in Nevada. Not legally prosperous, if that's what you're wondering.”
His attorney shifted slightly.
Rafael noticed.
“Relax. I've already been convicted for the old stuff.”
He looked at us.
“I used fake identities. Credit. Accounts. Nothing glamorous. Gwen helped.”
My stomach tightened.
“She was involved?”
“She was better at it than I was.”
Dad stared at him.
Rafael continued.
“She could walk into a bank and make some twenty-five-year-old assistant manager believe anything. Dead mother. Sick husband. Stolen purse. Whatever story opened the door.”
“Was Chloe yours?” I asked.
He stopped.
His eyes moved to the photograph.
“Yes.”
Dad looked away.
Rafael saw.
“She told you otherwise.”
Dad nodded once.
Rafael exhaled through his nose.
“I should've guessed.”
“Did you know she was telling Samuel that?”
“No.”
“Did you know where they were?”
“I found out later.”
“When?”
“After she married him.”
Dad's head snapped up.
“You knew she married me?”
“I saw a society-page thing online years later.”
“And you did nothing?”
Rafael gave him a long look.
“What exactly did you want me to do? Show up and announce your wife was still technically married to a convicted felon?”
“Yes.”
Rafael's mouth twisted.
“Easy answer when you're sitting in the nice conference room.”
Dad flinched but didn't argue.
Warren stepped in.
“Mr. Mendoza, did you and Gwendolyn ever legally dissolve the marriage?”
“No.”
“Any annulment?”
“No.”
“Were you served with divorce papers?”
“Never.”
Dad's hands gripped the edge of the table.
“So my marriage…”
Warren raised one hand.
“We'll verify independently before making a definitive legal conclusion.”
Rafael looked at Dad.
“Brother, I'd start calling it a ceremony.”
Dad said nothing.
I asked, “Why did Gwendolyn leave?”
Rafael's expression darkened.
“Because things went bad.”
“With the fraud?”
“With me.”
He looked toward his attorney again.
“I was arrested the first time. She cleaned out an account and disappeared with Chloe.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Where did she go?”
“Arizona eventually.”
“And when she met Dad?”
“I didn't know.”
“Did you reconnect?”
Rafael hesitated.
The room changed.
Warren noticed too.
“Mr. Mendoza.”
Rafael rubbed his jaw.
“She contacted me about six years ago.”
Dad went still.
“Why?”
“She needed help.”
“With what?”
“Setting up companies.”
Serrano Holdings.
I slid one statement toward him.
“Like this?”
Rafael looked down.
He didn't touch it.
His face answered before his mouth did.
“Yeah.”
Dad stood.
“You helped her steal from me.”
Rafael's attorney interjected.
“My client has not admitted that.”
Rafael lifted a hand.
“He's right to be angry.”
His attorney looked unhappy.
Rafael faced Dad.
“I didn't know the money was yours at first.”
“At first.”
“No.”
“When did you know?”
“Later.”
“And you kept helping.”
Rafael didn't deny it.
Dad walked to the window.
I had never seen him look so old.
“How much?” I asked.
Rafael's gaze moved to me.
“I don't know.”
“You set up companies.”
“I created three.”
“Names.”
His attorney whispered something.
Rafael answered anyway.
“Serrano Holdings. Copper Mesa Consulting. Maribel Imports.”
Warren wrote them down.
Dad turned from the window.
“Those names are in my records.”
Rafael nodded.
“I assumed they would be.”
“What was the purpose?”
“Move money somewhere harder to trace.”
“Where?”
“Some went overseas. Some came back as cash.”
“Why cash?”
“Ask Gwen.”
I thought about the storage unit.
The fifty thousand Chloe had seen.
The second phone.
The passports.
“Was she planning to leave?”
Rafael studied me.
“When?”
“Now.”
He gave a humorless smile.
“Gwen is always planning to leave.”
“What does that mean?”
“She keeps exits.”
“Explain.”
“Cash nobody knows about. Documents under alternate names. A place to go if things turn.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Alternate names.”
Rafael nodded.
“She still using Elena Marquez?”
Dad turned.
“What?”
Rafael looked surprised.
“You really don't know anything.”
“Who is Elena Marquez?” I asked.
“Gwen.”
I remembered Chloe mentioning a second passport.
“What other names?”
“Caroline Wade. Mia Serrano.”
I wrote them down.
Warren leaned forward.
“Did you create identification under those names?”
“No. Not this round.”
“This round?”
Rafael shook his head.
“Gwen never stopped being who she was. She just got better clothes.”
The words sat heavily.
My father had spent eighteen years thinking he had married the woman who represented the consequence of his worst moral failure.
Instead, he had married someone with an established history of fraud.
Not because that absolved him.
But because his guilt had made him uniquely easy to manipulate.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I stepped away from the table and answered.
“Paige?”
A man's voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Aaron Bell with the financial crimes unit. Warren Sterling gave me your number.”
Everyone at the table looked toward me.
“Yes?”
“We executed a search warrant on the Mesa storage unit connected to the documents you provided.”
Already.
My heart sped up.
“What did you find?”
“I can't discuss everything during an active investigation.”
“Anything?”
A pause.
“Documents connected to your father's accounts. Cash. Multiple identity documents. Travel reservations.”
I looked at Rafael.
“When?”
“Two tickets departing Phoenix tonight.”
“For whom?”
“I can't give you that yet.”
“Detective—”
“One passenger is booked under a name linked to Gwendolyn.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where?”
“Mexico City, onward connection to Madrid.”
“And the second?”
Another pause.
“Chloe.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
Everyone in the room reacted to my face.
The detective continued.
“Do you know where Chloe is right now?”
I grabbed my keys.
“She was staying with a friend.”
“Call her.”
I hung up.
Dad moved toward me.
“What happened?”
“There were airline tickets.”
“For Gwendolyn?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I called Chloe.
Straight to voicemail.
My stomach dropped.
Again.
Voicemail.
Dad said, “Paige.”
“The second ticket is for Chloe.”
His face changed.
I dialed again.
Nothing.
Then a text appeared.
From Chloe.
Need help.
A second message came immediately.
Mom found me.
I typed: WHERE ARE YOU?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then:
She says we are leaving tonight. I told her no.
Another message.
She took my car keys.
Dad was already pulling out his phone.
“Call police.”
I typed again.
SEND LOCATION.
This time a location pin arrived.
North Scottsdale.
I showed Dad.
Warren was speaking to Detective Bell.
Rafael stood.
“I know that address.”
We all looked at him.
“What?”
Rafael pointed to the map.
“That's one of Gwen's old rentals.”
Dad's face hardened.
“Why would she take Chloe there?”
Rafael looked at me.
“Because it has a garage with a second exit onto the service road.”
The room moved all at once.
Dad headed for the door.
Warren caught his arm.
“Police are closer.”
“That's my daughter.”
The words came without hesitation.
Not biological daughter.
Not supposed daughter.
His daughter.
Rafael heard it too.
He lowered his gaze.
My phone vibrated again.
Chloe.
She's packing my things.
Then:
She says if I don't go she'll tell everyone I'm part of what she did.
I stared at the message.
Gwendolyn wasn't trying to save Chloe.
She was trying to take a witness.
I called her.
This time she answered.
“Where is Chloe?”
Gwendolyn sighed.
“You really do love interference.”
“Let her leave.”
“She is my daughter.”
“She is eighteen.”
“And confused.”
“She said no.”
“You don't understand what you've done to her.”
“What I've done?”
“You dismantled her entire family in forty-eight hours.”
“You built that family on lies.”
Her voice chilled.
“If Samuel wants to ruin me, Chloe comes with me.”
Behind her I heard a muffled voice.
Chloe.
“Mom, give me my phone.”
Then a thud.
“Gwendolyn.”
“She is fine.”
“If you force her into a car—”
“You'll what? Play another video?”
Sirens sounded faintly through my phone.
Not near me.
Near her.
Gwendolyn heard them.
Silence.
Then she whispered, “What did you do?”
I answered with the same words she had used on me days earlier.
“You'll find out.”
The line went dead.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: When Gwendolyn’s Escape Collapsed at the Garage Door, Chloe Made a Choice That Finally Turned the Entire Case Against Her Mother
The Sound of Splintering Cherry Wood Ended Ten Years of Silence and Made My Father’s Choice Impossible to Ignore
Part 7 of 17
