Chapter 6 - THE FIRE IN MY BACKYARDBy the time police arrived, half the fire pit was filled with ash.
He was seventy-two, silver-haired, and spoke with the calm patience of a man who had spent forty years watching people lie under oath.
Dad had known Harold since high school.
What I hadn't known was that Harold had become one of Nebraska's most respected agricultural estate attorneys.
He reviewed the photographs I had uploaded overnight.
Wire transfer.
Corporate registrations.
Loan notice.
Receipts.
Elaine's distributions.
Then he removed his glasses.
“Kyle Parker may have a serious problem.”
“May?”
Harold smiled faintly.
“Lawyers avoid certainty before breakfast.”
Dad sat beside me.
Harold turned to him.
“Norman, did Kyle ever provide the quarterly accounting required under Section Eight?”
“No.”
“Any written investment reports?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize compensation to Elaine Parker?”
“No.”
“Peter Lawson?”
“No.”
“Any personal expenses?”
“No.”
Harold nodded.
“Then they're in breach.”
My heart accelerated.
“What does that mean practically?”
“The agreement Norman signed with Kyle is secured through a UCC filing and a promissory obligation connected to assets purchased with the transferred funds. Kyle represented Parker Heritage as fiduciary manager. If he diverted money, we may be able to freeze company assets.”
“Can we recover the farm?”
Dad looked at me.
Harold's expression softened.
“That may be harder. The buyer appears legitimate. We don't punish an innocent purchaser for Kyle's conduct.”
Dad looked down.
I squeezed his hand.
“But,” Harold continued, “Norman may recover the money plus damages.”
“And the Paradise Valley land?”
“Potentially.”
My phone buzzed.
Kyle.
Eleven missed calls since midnight.
Then a text:
We need to talk before lawyers get involved.
I showed Harold.
He chuckled.
“Lawyers are already involved.”
Another text arrived.
Mom is willing to apologize.
Dad barked a laugh.
Then:
Please don't destroy our family over money.
I stared at the screen.
Fourteen years married.
And he still thought this was about money.
I typed nothing.
Harold instructed me not to return to the house alone and recommended an Arizona attorney.
By 10:00 a.m., I was sitting across from Rachel Kim in a downtown Phoenix office.
Rachel specialized in financial fraud and high-asset divorce.
I hadn't planned on discussing divorce.
Not until she asked one question.
“Do you believe your husband has disclosed everything?”
“No.”
“Do you trust him?”
I couldn't answer.
That was the answer.
Rachel requested permission to run immediate asset searches and prepare a temporary restraining order preventing Kyle from transferring property.
I signed.
Then she looked at the photograph of Kyle and Sophia.
“Do you want adultery investigated?”
“Would it affect the financial case?”
“Potentially, if marital assets funded the relationship.”
“Then yes.”
Rachel leaned back.
“Claire, I'm going to tell you something you may not want to hear.”
I waited.
“People who hide money rarely hide one thing.”
By afternoon, we discovered how right she was.
Parker Heritage Holdings wasn't one secret company.
There were five.
Two owned vehicles.
One leased a furnished condominium in Tempe.
Another held a thirty-foot boat at Lake Pleasant.
The fifth had paid approximately $220,000 to a consulting business registered to Sophia Grant.
Sophia.
I stared at the spreadsheet.
“She was paid by my husband's company?”
Rachel nodded.
“For what?”
“We don't know yet.”
The condominium address appeared on one payment.
I recognized the neighborhood.
Kyle had told me he met clients there.
Rachel's investigator visited the building.
The doorman confirmed Kyle frequently stayed overnight.
Sometimes with Sophia.
There was no need to wonder anymore.
My marriage wasn't suffering from one betrayal.
It had been converted into a financing operation for Kyle's second life.
At 4:30, Rachel's assistant entered.
“We found another deed.”
Rachel examined it.
Then looked at me.
“This one may upset you.”
“I think I'm past upset.”
She turned the screen.
A cabin near Flagstaff.
Purchased eighteen months earlier.
$860,000.
Owner:
KPSG Ventures LLC.
Members:
Kyle Parker.
Sophia Grant.
I stared at it.
“That was before Parker Heritage.”
“Yes.”
“So he was hiding assets before Dad's money.”
“Yes.”
The room felt suddenly small.
How long had this been going on?
How many times had Kyle kissed me goodbye before driving to a house he secretly owned with another woman?
Rachel kept reading.
“There's a mortgage.”
“Using what down payment?”
“We're tracing it.”
My phone rang.
Sophia Grant.
I stared at the name.
Rachel said, “Your decision.”
I answered.
“Sophia.”
Silence.
Then:
“Claire, I think we should meet.”
“Why?”
“Because Kyle has lied to both of us.”
That was not what I expected.
I glanced at Rachel.
She gestured for me to continue.
“What did he tell you?”
Sophia exhaled shakily.
“That you were separated.”
Of course.
“For how long?”
“Almost two years.”
“We had dinner together three weeks ago.”
“I know.”
“You hugged me.”
“I know.”
“And then you slept with my husband?”
Sophia began crying.
“I thought the marriage was for appearances. He said you both agreed.”
Every stereotype about the other woman told me I should hate her.
But listening to her, I heard something familiar.
A person realizing Kyle had built a version of reality around her.
“What changed?”
“He called me last night. Told me you were becoming unstable. Said you were trying to steal his development project.”
I almost laughed.
“And?”
“He asked me to transfer money.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“How much?” I asked.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
“From where?”
“A company account.”
“Which company?”
“Blue Mesa Consulting.”
Rachel immediately started typing.
I remembered the name.
One of the entities receiving transfers from our investments.
Sophia continued.
“He told me to move it overseas.”
That changed everything.
Rachel mouthed silently:
Ask where.
“Where overseas?”
“Cayman Islands.”
Rachel's expression hardened.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Don't.”
“I won't.”
Sophia's voice lowered.
“There’s something else.”
I waited.
“Kyle keeps documents at the Flagstaff cabin.”
“What documents?”
“Bank statements. Contracts. He said he couldn't keep them at your house.”
My heart pounded.
“Can you access the cabin?”
“Yes.”
Rachel shook her head, warning me not to suggest anything illegal.
I chose my words carefully.
“Don't touch his documents. But preserve anything legally belonging to you.”
Sophia understood.
“Claire, I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“So am I.”
After the call, Rachel looked almost energized.
“A request to move funds offshore after discovery of potential fraud is significant.”
“Can we stop him?”
“We can try.”
At 5:18 p.m., Rachel filed emergency motions.
At 6:03, Harold initiated claims on Dad's secured agreement.
At 7:41, preservation notices went to financial institutions.
At 9:16, my phone rang again.
Kyle.
I ignored it.
Then Elaine.
Ignored.
Then Madison.
I almost ignored hers too.
But she texted:
Aunt Claire please answer. Grandma is making us pack and Uncle Kyle is burning papers in the backyard.
I stood up so fast my chair fell backward.
Rachel looked at me.
“What?”
I showed her.
Her face changed instantly.
“Call the police.”
I called.
Then Madison sent a photograph.
Through an upstairs window, orange flames rose from our patio fire pit.
Kyle stood beside them.
He was feeding files into the fire.
May you like
And behind him, Elaine was carrying a black metal box.
My safe.
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