Chapter 5 - The Bank Statement
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I stepped closer to the truck window, frowning.
“What money, Ethan?”
Ethan pulled out a damp, tightly folded piece of white paper from his pocket and handed it through the cracked window.
Daniel noticed the paper and immediately lunged forward.
“Ethan! Give me that right now!”
The senior officer instantly shoved his hand out, pressing it firmly against Daniel’s chest.
“Sir! Step back! Right now!”
Daniel stumbled back, his hands raised, but his eyes were wide with sheer terror as I unfolded the damp paper under the glow of the police cruiser's headlights.
It was an official bank statement from First National Bank. At the top of the page, bold black letters read:
ETHAN CARTER MINOR BENEFICIARY TRUST
Primary Trustee: Daniel Carter
Secondary Trustee: Arthur Carter
My heart stopped. My late daughter-in-law, Rachel—Ethan’s mother—had created that trust fund six years ago when she received a terminal cancer diagnosis. She wanted to ensure Ethan was provided for if anything happened to her. I remembered sitting at her bedside when she asked me to be the backup trustee. She had deposited her entire life insurance payout and her family inheritance into that fund.
There should have been $240,000 waiting for Ethan when he turned eighteen.
I looked down at the bottom of the page to read the current account balance.
CURRENT BALANCE: $8,412.19
My hands began to shake uncontrollably. My blood ran ice-cold.
I slowly looked up from the paper and stared at my son.
“Daniel...” my voice was barely audible over the howling wind. “What is this?”
Daniel looked away, staring at his boots. He said nothing.
“What happened to Rachel’s money?” I shouted, stepping toward him. “Where is the two hundred and thirty thousand dollars?”
Victoria stepped between us, her eyes flashing with anger.
“He shouldn't even have been going through Daniel’s desk! That paper was private property!”
Ethan leaned out of the truck window, tears streaming down his face.
“I found it because I heard them fighting last night!” Ethan cried out. “They were shouting about the money! Dad took it!”
Daniel snapped, his face contorting in rage.
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“Ethan, shut your mouth!”
“Sir!” the senior police officer barked, drawing his baton. “You will not yell at the child again! Step back to your porch!”
