PART 13 – The Bank Finally Gave Me the Statements I Had Requested, and One Small Detail Made Me Realize How Long Alden Had Been Planning This

The bank called on Wednesday morning.

I was in the kitchen making toast when my phone rang.

The young teller recognized my voice.

"Miss Joanne, your account records are ready."

I put down the butter knife.

"Thank you. I'll come in this afternoon."

I didn't tell Alden.

There was no reason to.

He had made it clear that he didn't believe I needed to know what happened to my own money.

I wasn't going to ask his permission to find out.

I drove into town after lunch.

The sky was gray, and rain had started tapping against the windshield.

I parked outside the bank and took a moment before going inside.

The same young teller brought out a folder.

She placed it on the counter.

"These are the records you requested."

I thanked her.

Then I opened the folder.

There were pages showing the account activity before it had been closed.

I read them slowly.

Dates.

Deposits.

Withdrawals.

Transfers.

I checked the pension deposit dates against my own calendar.

The numbers matched.

Then I noticed something.

The pension had been deposited into the joint account shortly before Alden closed it.

A transfer had been made afterward.

I looked at the transaction details.

The destination account wasn't mine.

It wasn't the old joint account.

It was the separate account number I had seen on my phone that morning at home.

I asked the teller whether the bank could provide additional information about the destination.

She explained what the records showed and what they could not disclose without the appropriate authorization.

I understood.

I wasn't asking her to break any rules.

I simply wanted copies of the transactions involving my pension.

She helped me identify the relevant dates.

I wrote them down.

Then I looked at the last page.

The joint account had been closed on Tuesday.

The timing bothered me.

Alden had known the pension deposit was coming.

He had closed the account before I noticed the missing payment.

I sat very still.

It hadn't been an accident.

He hadn't discovered some banking problem and made a quick decision.

He had taken steps.

He had arranged things.

And he had done it without telling me.

I thanked the teller and placed the papers in my purse.

Outside, the rain had become heavier.

I sat in the truck with the folder on the passenger seat.

I looked at the dates again.

Then I remembered something.

The previous week, Alden had asked whether I had checked the bank account.

I had told him I hadn't.

He had smiled.

At the time, I thought nothing of it.

Now I wondered whether he had already known exactly what I would find.

I drove home slowly.

Alden was in the garage when I arrived.

He was cleaning the riding mower.

A rag hung from his back pocket.

He looked up.

"Where have you been?"

"In town."

"Doing what?"

"Picking up some paperwork."

He returned to the mower.

"What paperwork?"

"Bank statements."

His hand stopped moving.

For a moment, he didn't turn around.

Then he stood.

"Why are you still digging into that?"

I placed my purse on the workbench.

"Because I want to know what happened."

"I already told you."

"You told me you moved the money."

"That's right."

"Where?"

He looked at me.

Then he shook his head.

"Joanne, this is getting ridiculous."

I took the folder out of my purse.

I didn't wave it at him.

I simply placed it on the workbench.

"The records show when the transfer happened."

He glanced at the pages.

"Those statements don't tell you anything."

"They tell me my pension was transferred into an account I don't control."

He folded his arms.

"I was taking care of the household."

"Then why couldn't you tell me?"

He looked toward the garage door.

"I don't have time for this."

I nodded.

"All right."

I picked up my purse and went inside.

I didn't follow him.

I didn't shout.

I had spent enough years trying to get answers from someone who believed silence was a way to win.

That evening, I placed the bank statements in the folder beside the deed.

The papers were becoming a record of things I had once accepted without question.

I looked at Daddy's photograph on the shelf.

His old hand rested on the fence post.

I thought about the way he had told me to protect what belonged to me.

Then I turned off the kitchen light.

I was no longer looking for an excuse to believe Alden.

I was looking for the truth.

Click here to continue reading: PART 14: Alden Finally Told Me Why He Wanted Control of the Money, but His Explanation Made Me Understand Something Much Worse