Chapter 4 - THE SECOND FAMILY I ALMOST FORGOT
Elliot drove me to my parents’ house in Lakewood.
I had spent four years hiding the ugliness of my marriage from them.
That ended at 8:20 that morning.
My mother, June Whitmore, opened the door wearing slippers and holding a coffee mug.
She took one look at me.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
That was all it took.
I had not cried at the hospital.
I had not cried watching Diane celebrate my supposed death.
I had not cried hearing Mason discuss how convenient my fatal accident might be.
But when my mother put her arms around me, something broke.
I cried against her shoulder like I was twelve years old.
My father, Paul, came from the kitchen.
“What happened?”
We sat at their old oak dining table.
And I told them everything.
The stolen car.
Lauren.
The pregnancy.
The crash.
Diane’s phone call.
The burglary.
The recording.
Mason’s plan.
My father did not speak for almost a minute afterward.
Then he took off his glasses.
“I never liked that man.”
“Paul,” Mom whispered.
“No. I’m done pretending.”
He looked at me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t push harder.”
“I wouldn’t have listened.”
That was the truth.
Mason had known exactly how to make himself look harmless.
He had never demanded my money.
He had needed help.
He had never insulted my career.
He had needed time to find himself.
His mother had never exploited me.
She was old-fashioned.
His sister was not entitled.
She was struggling.
I had renamed every warning until it sounded like compassion.
Elliot arrived that afternoon with documents.
“Police want the original vehicle recording,” he said.
I nodded.
“There’s enough for an investigation into what Mason was contemplating, but remember: talking about something is not always the same as committing an attempt.”
“What about Diane?”
“Her knowledge is unclear.”
“She practically confessed.”
“She said she never agreed to kill you. That’s suspicious. It’s not proof.”
“What is proof?”
“The messages we haven’t found yet.”
That was the beginning.
With appropriate legal preservation requests, investigators obtained data from Mason’s devices.
The picture that emerged was worse than the affair.
Mason had significant private debt.
Credit cards.
Sports betting.
Personal loans.
A failed investment Diane had encouraged him to make.
He had lied to me about nearly all of it.
Then investigators found messages between Mason and Diane.
Not a written murder plan.
Nothing that simple.
Instead there were phrases.
If Audrey ever leaves, we’re finished.
She needs to keep you as beneficiary.
Don’t let her change the insurance.
And one message from Diane:
A widow or widower has more rights than an ex-husband. Remember that.
That sentence became important.
Diane insisted she had meant only that Mason should protect himself financially.
Maybe she had.
Maybe she had not.
But investigators also discovered Mason had attempted to increase a life-insurance policy two weeks before the crash.
The change had not fully taken effect.
He had also searched phrases such as:
accidental death mountain road
spouse inheritance Colorado
and
how long insurance investigates fatal crash
Seeing the search history made me physically ill.
The person who kissed me goodbye before conferences had been researching what happened after my funeral.
Meanwhile, Lauren regained consciousness.
She cooperated with police.
Her account complicated everything.
Mason had told her I knew about the affair.
I did not.
He told her we were separated.
We were not.
He told her my money was largely marital property.
It was not.
And according to Lauren, she had initially believed his talk about an “accident” was dark humor.
Until that final drive.
She told investigators Mason had been drinking before they left Denver.
She had asked him to slow down.
He became angry.
Minutes later, the Porsche crossed the center line on a wet curve, hit a barrier, and rolled down an embankment.
There was no evidence he had deliberately caused that crash.
Irony had done what conspiracy never managed to accomplish.
Mason died in the exact kind of accident he had imagined using against me.
Lauren survived with serious injuries.
She lost the pregnancy.
When I learned that, I felt no triumph.
She had betrayed me knowingly once she discovered I was still married to Mason.
But grief is not a competition.
I did not need to celebrate hers in order to acknowledge mine.
Five days after Mason’s funeral, Diane filed against his estate.
Then she tried to file against me.
She claimed Mason had contributed to my career.
That he had supported me emotionally.
That my royalties should therefore be treated as marital wealth.
She demanded part of the Porsche insurance settlement.
She demanded reimbursement for money Mason supposedly invested in my condominium.
Elliot read the complaint twice.
Then he laughed.
“What?”
“She just gave us what we needed.”
“How?”
“She put her version of the marriage on paper.”
The bank records told a different story.
During four years of marriage, I had paid nearly every housing expense.
I had funded Mason’s car.
His wardrobe.
Vacations.
Part of Russell’s medical care.
And multiple transfers to Diane.
Mason’s alleged investment in my condo?
There was none.
The largest transfer from his account to mine was $1,200.
Two days later, I had transferred $5,000 back because he claimed his business account was overdrawn.
Elliot stacked the statements.
“They want a fight?”
May you like
He looked at me.
“Now we give them facts.”
