The legal aid office occupied two rooms above a pharmacy, with a narrow staircase that smelled faintly of dust and antiseptic. When I arrived for my appointment, I carried a folder thick enough that I had to hold it against my chest to keep the papers from slipping out.
The adviser, a woman named Ms. Patel, greeted me at the door and led me to a desk beside a window overlooking the street. She was in her forties, wore square glasses, and had the calm, attentive manner of someone who had spent years listening to people describe problems they were afraid might be their own fault.
I began with the divorce. I explained that Garrett had left five years earlier, that I had been responsible for settling several debts, and that I had recently discovered evidence he had maintained contact with a neighbor who reported information about my son and me.
I also told her about Brenda, the emails, and the references to accounts I couldn't identify.
Ms. Patel listened without interrupting. When I finished, she opened my divorce papers and began comparing the dates against the bank statements I had brought.
“I'm going to separate what we know from what we suspect,” she said. “That distinction matters. Some of what you've described may be relevant, but we shouldn't assume that every unexplained payment proves wrongdoing.”
I appreciated her saying it plainly. I had spent several days imagining the worst, and I needed someone who could examine the evidence without being pulled along by my anger.
She started with the debts.
“Were these accounts included in the divorce settlement?”
“Some were. Others were already in collection when I realized how much we owed.”
“Did you sign an agreement accepting responsibility for the joint debts?”
I showed her the relevant pages.
She read them carefully, then asked whether I had copies of the original loan agreements. I had only a few, but she noted which ones were missing and explained that she would need more information before determining whether any part of the settlement could be challenged.
Then she reached the section dealing with financial disclosures.
Her finger stopped beside a paragraph.
“Do you remember this?”
I leaned forward.
The document stated that both parties had disclosed their known accounts and liabilities to the best of their knowledge. Garrett had signed the form. I had signed it, too.
“I remember signing it,” I said. “I thought it was standard paperwork.”
“It is a common type of declaration. The question is whether the information provided was accurate.”
I stared at the page.
“You think he concealed something?”
“I think the email you showed me gives us a reason to ask for further records. It doesn't establish what was concealed, or whether it affects your settlement. But it is worth investigating.”
For the next hour, we went through every statement I had brought. Ms. Patel marked dates, highlighted unfamiliar account references, and asked me to explain any payments I recognized. Several were ordinary household expenses. Others matched the debts I had paid after Garrett left.
One transfer, however, caught her attention.
It was dated several weeks before Garrett filed for divorce. The amount was not large enough to explain the debts, but the recipient's name was abbreviated, and I couldn't identify the account.
“Have you seen this before?” she asked.
“No.”
“Does the account number appear anywhere else?”
I searched the folder. Nothing matched.
She made a note beside it.
“This may turn out to be insignificant. But given the other information, I would like you to obtain the full statement if possible.”
I felt a familiar tightness in my chest.
“Can I get it if the account wasn't in my name?”
“That depends on the account, the relevant rules, and what records remain available. We can discuss the proper process. Don't attempt to access anything you aren't authorized to access.”
I nodded.
She then asked about the email referring to keeping the two situations separate. I showed her the photograph Brenda had sent.
Ms. Patel read it twice.
“Do you know what he meant by ‘the old accounts’?”
“No.”
“Has Brenda identified them?”
“Not yet.”
“Then that is the next step. She should preserve the original message and the records around it. If she has access to her own financial documents, she can make copies of those. She should not alter anything or access accounts that aren't hers.”
I wrote down the instructions.
Before I left, Ms. Patel gave me a list of documents to collect and advised me not to contact Garrett in anger or make accusations I couldn't support. If he had concealed assets or misrepresented information during the divorce, the proper response would depend on what the records showed.
I left the office with fewer assumptions and more work to do.
For the first time, the mystery had a shape. It wasn't simply about why Garrett had left or why Evelyn had watched us. There were questions about money, disclosure, and decisions made before the divorce that I had never been in a position to examine.
I called Brenda from the pavement outside the pharmacy.
“I saw a legal adviser,” I told her. “She thinks the records are worth investigating, but we need to be careful about what we conclude.”
“Did she say what we should do?”
“She wants us to preserve everything and identify the accounts. Especially the ones mentioned in Garrett's email.”
Brenda was silent for a moment.
“I found something last night,” she said. “A reference to Martin again. There's a phone number written beside his name.”
“Have you called it?”
“No. I thought I'd ask you first.”
“Don't call just to confront him. We need to know who he is before we decide what to ask.”
“I understand.”
I promised to review the information with her once she had copied the relevant pages, then ended the call.
When I arrived home, Liam was sitting at the dining table with a pile of library books. He had arranged them in a precise row, with the largest at the bottom and the smallest on top. His cardboard house had been moved to the windowsill, where the afternoon light fell across the roof.
“How was your appointment?” he asked.
“Useful.”
“Did you find Dad?”
I set my folder on the counter.
“Not exactly.”
He accepted the answer without protest, then returned to his book. I watched him for a moment and wondered whether he had been asking because he wanted his father back or because he wanted me to stop carrying the question around the house.
Later that evening, Brenda sent me the phone number and a photograph of the page where it appeared. The name Martin was written in the margin beside a date that matched the transfer Ms. Patel had highlighted.
There was no title, no address, and no explanation.
I sent the image to Ms. Patel's office through the secure contact method she had provided, asking whether the information might be useful. She replied the following morning that she would review it, but cautioned me against assuming the person was connected to anything improper.
I agreed.
The next few days passed in a routine that felt almost stubbornly ordinary. I went to work, prepared dinner, helped Liam with homework, and sorted the remaining financial records after he went to bed. I kept the papers in a locked drawer and made copies of the documents Ms. Patel had requested.
Meanwhile, Brenda continued searching through the files she had kept from her marriage. She found more references to payments, although none yet established what the money had been for. She also discovered that Garrett had retained several old addresses in his paperwork, including one that appeared on a document dated after our divorce.
That detail bothered me.
I had assumed he had moved away and built his new life elsewhere. The address suggested that he might have continued using a location connected to our past, perhaps for correspondence or financial records. I couldn't tell whether it mattered, but I added it to the list.
Then, on Thursday afternoon, my phone rang while I was folding laundry.
The number was unfamiliar.
“Hello?”
“Is this Samantha?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Martin Cole. I believe you've been trying to identify me.”
I stood still, a clean shirt hanging from my hands.
“Who gave you my number?”
“Brenda contacted me to ask whether I knew anything about some old documents. I thought it would be better to speak directly rather than exchange messages.”
I looked toward the locked drawer in the bedroom.
“What is your connection to Garrett?”
“I'm an accountant. I handled some financial work for him several years ago.”
“Before or after our divorce?”
“Both, in a limited capacity.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Did you know he was married to me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know he had a son?”
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
The answer was calm, almost clinical.
“Then perhaps you can explain why he was paying my neighbor to keep track of us while refusing to contact his child.”
“I can't explain his personal decisions,” Martin said. “But I can tell you that the records you have found may relate to an arrangement that was never properly closed out.”
“What arrangement?”
“I'd rather not discuss confidential financial matters without reviewing the documents. I also don't want to give you information that could be inaccurate.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Mr. Cole, I have spent five years paying debts I didn't fully understand. If there are records that could explain what happened, I need to know how to obtain them lawfully.”
“I understand.”
“Can you help?”
“I can tell you what records I still have and what process would be appropriate. But I will need to verify exactly what you're asking for.”
We arranged a meeting for the following week, subject to Ms. Patel's advice. He gave me the name of his office and said he would check his archived files before we spoke.
When the call ended, I stood in the bedroom with the shirt still hanging from my hands.
I had wanted an explanation for the watch. I had wanted to understand why Evelyn had agreed to help Garrett and why he had never come back for Liam.
Now an accountant who had worked with Garrett was telling me that an old financial arrangement might never have been properly closed.
I folded the shirt and placed it in the drawer.
Then I went downstairs to find my son.
Liam was on the living room rug, carefully repairing a loose corner of his cardboard house. He looked up when I entered.
“Mom, do you think people can make something right after a long time?”
I knelt beside him.
“Sometimes they can make part of it right. They can't change what happened, but they can choose what they do next.”
He considered that answer, then pressed the cardboard corner into place.
“I hope Mrs. Evelyn keeps the picture.”
“I think she will.”
He smiled and returned to his work.
I watched him for a moment, then stood and went back to the kitchen. Whatever Martin's records contained, I would examine them with Ms. Patel's guidance. I wasn't going to let another person's confident explanation determine what I believed.
Garrett had already had five years to tell his own story.
This time, I intended to read the documents for myself.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Martin’s Records Revealed Why Garrett Had Been Watching Our Lives, but the Explanation Was More Complicated Than I Expected
Twenty Minutes After I Finally Trusted My Son to Walk Home Alone, My Neighbor Was Waiting With Tears in Her Eyes
Part 10 of 20
