Chapter 8 - DAD MONEY
The theft was smaller than Nora expected.
That made it more believable.
Greg had not emptied Leo's account in one dramatic transfer.
He had taken $300 here.
$480 there.
$725 marked as educational expenses.
$1,100 for "behavioral consultation."
$950 for "specialized tutoring."
Enough to matter.
Not enough to trigger Nora's attention while she worked nights and trusted the man handling bills.
Over eighteen months, it added up to more than twenty-two thousand dollars.
Some payments went to Greg's contracting company.
Others went through a small business registered to a man named Calvin Price, one of the Tuesday visitors.
Harbor Youth Support Services.
No office.
No licensed counselors.
No real clients investigators could initially find.
Leo had supposedly attended weekly behavioral sessions.
Every Tuesday.
The same Tuesdays he missed school.
Nora looked at the transaction history.
Her hands shook.
"He was billing Leo's money for therapy while locking him in the shed."
Ruiz nodded cautiously.
"That's one interpretation investigators are examining."
Nora laughed bitterly.
"What other interpretation is there?"
"One that survives court."
The answer frustrated her.
Then she understood why Ruiz spoke that way.
Anger could name things quickly.
Justice had to prove them.
More records surfaced.
Greg had created invoices claiming Leo suffered from severe behavioral problems requiring supervision.
Those invoices helped justify withdrawals from the custodial account.
Some contained Nora's electronic signature.
She had signed none of them.
But she recognized the wording.
At least pieces of it.
Emails she had written.
Texts.
Phrases copied and assembled into approvals she never gave.
Greg had built paperwork the same way he built lies.
Using fragments of truth.
He did not invent Leo's grief.
He weaponized it.
He did not invent Nora's exhaustion.
He turned it into proof she was unstable.
He did not invent his caregiving.
He performed enough real caregiving to hide what happened when nobody watched.
Even Evan, trained to recognize patterns, found that part unsettling.
Monsters were easier when they behaved like monsters all the time.
Greg had attended school events.
Cooked dinner.
Changed a flat tire for Nora's sister.
Sat beside Leo during stomach flu.
Built him a bookshelf.
Then locked him in a shed.
Human beings wanted one version of a person to cancel out the other.
It didn't.
On Tuesday, five days after the emergency-room visit, Leo was discharged.
He would not return to his house.
Not yet.
Nora and Leo moved temporarily into Melissa's two-bedroom apartment.
It was crowded.
Melissa gave Leo her bedroom and slept on the couch.
Leo refused to sleep alone the first night.
Nora made a bed on the floor beside him.
At 2:13 a.m., she woke to scratching.
Leo was clawing at the wall beside the mattress.
"Leo?"
He jerked awake.
"Open it."
Nora sat up.
"What?"
"The door."
"It's open."
His eyes were not fully awake.
"Open it."
She turned on the lamp.
The bedroom door was already wide open.
Leo stared at it for several seconds.
Then his breathing slowed.
"Sorry."
Nora's heart cracked.
"For what?"
"I woke you."
"You're allowed."
He looked uncertain.
"Greg got mad when I woke him."
"I'm not Greg."
Leo nodded.
But children did not replace fear with logic overnight.
For weeks, Leo asked permission for everything.
Can I have water?
Can I use the bathroom?
Can I turn this light on?
Can I eat that?
Can I close the door?
Can I leave it open?
The questions showed Nora the shape of what had happened more clearly than any police report.
One evening, she found him hiding crackers beneath his pillow.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
"You don't have to hide food."
Leo's face went blank.
"I'm not."
Nora looked at the crackers.
He started crying.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
She caught herself before saying don't cry.
Instead:
"You don't have to apologize."
"He said I ate too much."
"Greg?"
Leo nodded.
"If I had snacks without asking, he'd say I was stealing."
Nora looked at her thin child.
"Food in this house is yours too."
"All of it?"
The question nearly destroyed her.
"Yes."
"What if it's the last one?"
"We can buy more."
"What if we don't have money?"
Nora thought of twenty-two thousand dollars.
"Then we'll figure it out together."
Leo studied her.
"You're not going to work tonight?"
Nora had taken family leave.
"No."
"What about tomorrow?"
"No."
"Are you going to lose your job?"
The fear in his voice explained something.
Greg had apparently told him Nora would be fired if Leo caused problems.
That they would lose their house.
That foster care would take him.
That Nora would hate him.
Fear had become Greg's substitute for locks.
Nora lay beside Leo until he slept.
Later, in the living room, Melissa found her crying silently.
"I missed all of it."
Melissa sat down.
"You were being manipulated too."
"But he was the child."
"I know."
"He needed me."
"I know."
"I thanked Greg for helping."
Melissa took her hand.
Nora pulled away.
"I don't want anyone telling me none of this is my fault."
Melissa went quiet.
"I made choices," Nora continued. "I stopped checking. I let Greg convince me everyone else was the problem. I worked every shift because it was easier than coming home to tension."
She stared toward Leo's room.
"I need to know where I failed him."
Melissa said softly, "Then figure it out."
Nora looked at her.
"But don't confuse responsibility with becoming useless."
That landed.
Melissa continued.
"If you spend the next ten years punishing yourself, Greg still gets to take your attention away from Leo."
Nora wiped her face.
The next morning, she called the school.
Then the bank.
Then a therapist recommended by the hospital.
Then Aaron's mother.
The last call frightened her most.
A woman answered on the third ring.
"Hello?"
Nora almost couldn't speak.
"Marianne?"
Silence.
"Nora?"
Her former mother-in-law's voice broke.
Nora looked at Leo across the room.
He was building a Lego boat.
"I'm sorry."
Marianne began crying.
"I thought you hated me."
Nora closed her eyes.
"I thought you hated me."
They both understood before either woman explained.
Greg had not simply stolen money.
He had stolen years.
Then Marianne said:
"Nora, there's something you should know."
"What?"
"The last birthday card I sent Leo wasn't just a card."
Nora's pulse changed.
"What was it?"
"A photograph Aaron gave me before his final season."
"Of Greg?"
"No."
May you like
Marianne's voice became quiet.
"It was a note Aaron wrote about him."
