Chapter 44 - The Woman From Indiana
The unknown number belonged to Denise Harper.
Not the same Denise I had spoken with about the old fundraiser.
Another woman.
Her name was Karen Whitlock.
Indiana.
She had donated to the tornado campaign Cliff was accused of mishandling.
Audrey verified her identity before I called.
Karen sounded exhausted.
“I’m sorry I messaged your personal number.”
“How did you get it?”
“Cliff.”
My grip tightened.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
Of course.
“He said you were the reason his life fell apart.”
“I’ve heard that.”
Karen gave a humorless laugh.
“He said you’d understand what it felt like to be lied about.”
That almost impressed me.
Cliff had apparently discovered irony.
Karen’s family had not been the tornado victims.
They were donors.
Her church collected nearly forty thousand dollars.
Cliff’s consulting company handled online payments and vendor coordination.
Thousands disappeared.
When Karen questioned him, Cliff told her administrative costs were higher than expected.
Then he told her the family had privately requested money be diverted.
They had not.
Same method.
Different zip code.
“What do you need from me?”
“Nothing.”
That surprised me.
She continued.
“I wanted you to know he used your name to sound trustworthy.”
My eyes closed.
“What did he say?”
“That he had made mistakes years ago because of pressure from your family, but that charges were exaggerated.”
I could hear my heartbeat.
“He told us he had been cleared.”
“He wasn’t.”
“I know now.”
We spoke carefully.
I did not investigate.
Did not give legal advice.
Did not promise to testify.
Karen already had authorities and attorneys involved.
Before hanging up, she said, “I listened to those podcasts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They’re terrible.”
I laughed.
She added, “I believed him at first.”
The confession hurt her.
I recognized the shame.
“Believing someone is not the same as helping them lie.”
Silence.
Then, softly, “Thank you.”
Afterward, I sat in my car outside the library.
Cliff had used my name again.
Not as a victim.
As proof of his redemption.
He had built credibility out of the fact that I once trusted him enough to be hurt.
Hannah found me ten minutes later.
“You are parked crooked.”
“I’m having a crisis.”
“You can have one between the lines.”
She climbed into the passenger seat.
I explained.
When I finished, she stared through the windshield.
“So he used being caught for fraud to prove he was safe to trust around fundraising?”
“Yes.”
“That is aggressively stupid.”
“Apparently it worked.”
“For a while.”
That phrase mattered.
For a while.
Lies do not need to last forever to cause damage.
They only need to last long enough.
Audrey later told me prosecutors in Indiana had access to the previous records.
My involvement might be limited.
Good.
I wanted justice without becoming central.
That was new.
Years earlier, every threat made me feel I had to personally hold the truth together.
Now I understood systems could work without me standing in every doorway.
Bryn struggled more.
“This means he never stopped.”
“No.”
“I thought Indiana was a fresh start.”
“For him?”
“For Grant.”
That hurt.
She sat at my kitchen table.
“What do I tell him?”
“The truth appropriate for his age.”
“What if the truth destroys his relationship with Cliff?”
I looked at her.
“The truth isn’t doing that.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
The court counselor helped.
Grant learned that his father faced additional charges.
He learned the new case involved a fundraiser.
He did not receive details about other families.
Then he asked the question everyone feared.
“Did Dad use my picture?”
Bryn froze.
Audrey helped verify.
No.
Grant exhaled so hard he almost folded over.
I had not realized how deeply the podcast recording had frightened him.
He looked at me.
“Did he use Nico and Arlo?”
“Not in Indiana.”
“Before?”
I did not lie.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Then he said, “I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“But he’s my dad.”
“That does not make you responsible.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
This time the phrase sounded different.
Not something an adult had told him.
Something he was beginning to believe.
Outside, Nico was setting up his telescope again.
Grant went to help.
I watched the three boys argue about lenses.
Somewhere in Indiana, adults were calculating missing dollars.
May you like
Here, children were measuring light.
For once, I knew exactly which story deserved more space in my house.
