Chapter 3 - THE BALANCE WAS FOUR HUNDRED TWELVE DOLLARS
Franklin was arrested that afternoon on suspicion of domestic battery after officers took statements from Ethan, Dana, and Carla.
It was not the end of anything.
It was paperwork.
Photographs of Ethan’s lip.
Carla’s statement that she saw Franklin attempting to pull a postoperative patient from the floor.
Dana’s admission that there had been earlier incidents.
A prosecutor would decide what happened next.
Ethan remained in the hospital another night.
The following morning, Kevin from the warehouse came by with a card signed by half the receiving department.
“You’re not coming back until occupational health clears you,” Kevin said.
“Franklin says I need to work Monday.”
Kevin stared at him.
“Franklin doesn’t sign your checks.”
The sentence stayed with Ethan.
After Kevin left, Ethan opened his banking app.
His paycheck account appeared normally.
The savings account did not.
He called the bank.
Because the account had originally been opened while he was a minor, Dana was still listed as a joint owner.
Ethan requested the balance.
Four hundred twelve dollars and nineteen cents.
He thought he had misheard.
“Can you repeat that?”
The representative did.
Ethan had calculated the account should contain more than nine thousand dollars.
Even allowing for emergencies, fees, or some expenses he had forgotten, four hundred dollars made no sense.
He asked for statements.
The answer arrived in his email minutes later.
Regular deposits from his checking account.
Two hundred dollars.
Almost every Friday.
Then transfers out.
$800.
$1,200.
$600.
$950.
Most moved into an account Ethan did not recognize.
He called Dana.
She answered on the third ring.
“Are you okay?”
“Where’s my money?”
Silence.
“The savings.”
“Ethan—”
“Nine thousand dollars doesn’t turn into four hundred by accident.”
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
Dana started crying.
He hated that the sound still made him want to soften.
“Some of it went toward the house.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You transferred it.”
“Franklin handled most of the bills.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Dana whispered, “A lot.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
The physical betrayal suddenly had a financial shape.
“You told me you were saving it.”
“I meant to replace it.”
“With what?”
No answer.
“Did Franklin know?”
Another silence.
That answer was worse.
“Mom.”
“He knew we were using some.”
“How much did he know?”
“I need to see you in person.”
Ethan looked at the hospital door.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No. You tell me now.”
Dana inhaled shakily.
“Franklin hasn’t been bringing home what you think he has.”
Ethan stared at the bank statement.
“What does that mean?”
“He’s had some problems with work.”
“How long?”
Dana would not answer.
Instead she said, “I’m sorry.”
May you like
Ethan hung up.
Sorry did not explain why a man who had been calling him a burden had apparently been living inside a house partly financed by money taken from Ethan’s future.
