PART 2: Keep Believing I’m in Germany
I contacted the officer who had recorded my earlier statement.
Within ninety minutes, Detective Rachel Moreno arrived at the hospital.
She spoke calmly and approached everything systematically, showing little interest in any explanation that rested solely on family relationships.
I handed over the security recordings, the financial statements, the resort screenshots, and the handwritten message Eleanor had left in our refrigerator.
Maya gave her own account separately, in a quiet voice, while I waited outside the door.
The detective listened carefully without interrupting.
When Maya explained how Chloe had regularly taken her phone, deleted messages from me, and limited her opportunities to communicate, Detective Moreno became noticeably more attentive.
“That information is important,” she said.
Then she turned to face me.
“Mr. Carter, please don’t alert your relatives.”
“I have no intention of doing that.”
“People sometimes contact family members while upset, unintentionally giving them an opportunity to remove or alter important evidence.”
“They still believe I’m in Germany.”
“Good. For now, allow them to continue believing that.”
For the first time since stepping into my apartment earlier that morning, something more controlled than anger settled over me.
A plan.
At 7:42 AM, my mother phoned.
Her name lit up my screen.
ELEANOR CARTER.
I held the phone out for Detective Moreno.
She gave a small nod.
“Respond as you normally would.”
I switched to speakerphone.
“Happy New Year, sweetheart!” my mother exclaimed brightly.
Loud music thumped somewhere behind her. I heard cheerful voices, the clink of glasses, and what sounded like wind rolling in off the ocean.
“Happy New Year.”
“You sound exhausted. Did I interrupt your sleep?”
“No. I’m still handling some work.”
That was enough.
She went on believing I was in Stuttgart.
“You work much too hard,” she remarked. “Your wife should be grateful for everything you provide.”
I pressed my teeth together.
Across the room, Maya turned her face toward the window.
My mother kept talking.
“Anyway, we’re having a small problem with your card. The payments aren’t going through.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Probably another security restriction. Could you approve twelve thousand dollars? We’ve decided to stay longer.”
“Twelve thousand dollars?”
“Oh, David, don’t start worrying about every dollar. We’re spending time together as a family.”
I gripped the phone so tightly that my fingers ached.
Then I heard Chloe speaking somewhere behind her.
“Tell him Ethan’s parents are staying with us too!”
My mother chuckled.
“That’s right. We’re entertaining Ethan’s family. They’ve become very close friends of ours.”
Detective Moreno scribbled something in her notebook.
I kept my tone even, though it cost me.
“Is Maya staying there with you?”
There was silence.
Only briefly. But it was unmistakable.
Then my mother repeated, “Maya?”
“Yes. My wife.”
“Oh. No, she decided she’d rather remain in Brooklyn.”
“Only eleven days after undergoing major abdominal surgery?”
My mother’s voice grew sharper.
“You know how sensitive she can be. We invited her along, but she said the journey would be too difficult.”
Maya stared at me, stunned.
“Did Liam come with you?”
Another hesitation.
“No. Of course he didn’t.”
“Then Maya is home by herself caring for a newborn?”
My mother let out an irritated sigh.
“David, women have been raising babies for generations. You don’t need to treat her as though she’s made of glass.”
Detective Moreno lifted one finger.
Continue.
“What happened to the groceries and supplies I purchased?”
“Which supplies?”
“The prepared meals, baby formula, and other necessities.”
“Oh, those.”
My mother laughed lightly, as though we were discussing leftover party favors.
“We brought some along because there was plenty. You always purchase more than necessary.”
Someone in the background called out for champagne.
Then Chloe moved closer to the phone.
“David! Can you sort out the card? We’re trying to reserve the rooftop for this evening.”
I asked as casually as I could manage, “Is Ethan having a good time?”
Everything went quiet.
Chloe answered before anyone else could.
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Just wondering.”
I disconnected.
Detective Moreno looked down at the phone.
“That conversation may help.”
I turned toward her.
“When will they be taken into custody?”
“When the available evidence establishes grounds for charges and the relevant jurisdictions have coordinated their response.”
I didn’t like hearing that.
But I understood her reasoning.
This was real life, not a film. Investigators couldn’t simply walk into a hotel and detain my relatives because I was furious. The records needed to be properly preserved, and the findings had to withstand legal scrutiny.
So we stayed patient.
But we weren’t sitting around doing nothing.
We kept documenting everything.
My bank’s fraud department verified that approximately $38,000 in transactions had appeared over the previous six months on cards assigned to Eleanor, Chloe, and Mark.
Some of those expenses had originally been permitted. Others appeared to fall well outside that authorization.
The charges included luxury resort deposits, jewelry purchases, spa services, designer outfits, and fees paid to a private event coordinator.
Then another troubling discovery emerged.
Three withdrawals had been taken from a joint savings account that Maya and I almost never touched.
Together, the transfers amounted to $61,400.
I hadn’t authorized them.
Maya hadn’t either.
The money had landed in an account belonging to an LLC established just six weeks earlier.
The registered owner?
Chloe Carter.
My own sister.
