Chapter 8: What Darren Knew
Patrick called me the next morning before I had finished my coffee.
"Darren texted you," he said.
It wasn't a question — I had forwarded the message the night before.
"Yes."
"Don't respond yet.
But I want you to think about whether you're willing to meet with him — with me present, recorded, and on my terms.
Because if Darren is willing to talk, he may be the most useful person in this entire situation."
"Useful how?"
"Your father is the one who signed the application.
Your father is the one who had your social security number and your license copy.
But Darren is the one who received the money.
If Darren cooperates — if he confirms that he knew the loan was taken out in your name without your consent — that corroborates everything.
It becomes very difficult for your father to claim this was a misunderstanding or a family arrangement you were vaguely aware of."
I set my coffee down.
"You think Darren will turn on my father?"
"I think Darren is scared.
Scared people look for the softest landing.
Right now the softest landing available to him is cooperation." A pause.
"Let me reach out to him through proper channels.
Let me set the terms."
"Okay," I said.
"Do it."
The meeting happened two days later, in Patrick's conference room.
Darren arrived with his own attorney, a tired-looking man named Fitch who kept checking his watch.
Darren himself looked nothing like the man who showed up to family dinners with new watches and deal stories.
He looked like someone who hadn't slept in a week.
His shirt was wrinkled.
He kept his hands flat on the table as if he needed to feel something solid.
Patrick opened a recording application on his laptop, stated the date and the names present, and looked at Darren.
"You wanted to explain your side," Patrick said.
"Go ahead."
Darren glanced at Fitch.
Fitch gave a small nod.
"I knew about the loan," Darren said.
"I knew it was in Maya's name.
Your father — he told me it was a temporary thing, that he had a way to handle it without involving you directly, that you'd never see it because he'd pay it off in six months." He looked at me for the first time.
"I should have said no.
I knew it wasn't right.
But I was in a bad situation and he made it sound like a formality."
"A formality," I said.
"I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like you decided my name and my credit were a formality."
He didn't answer that.
His hands pressed harder on the table.
"When the deal fell through," he continued, "I told your father we had to come clean.
He said to wait.
Then three months passed and the payments stopped and I told him again.
He said he was working on it.
That's when he started pressuring you for money — the BMW bill, all of that.
He was trying to pull cash together without triggering any questions."
"The BMW bill was never Chloe's," I said.
"No.
The car is mine.
The transmission work is mine.
He put it in Chloe's name to run it through the family the same way he ran everything else." Darren's voice dropped.
"I'm sorry, Maya.
I know that doesn't fix anything."
"What are you willing to put in writing?" Patrick asked.
Darren looked at Fitch again.
Fitch opened his briefcase and produced a two-page document.
"A full written statement," Fitch said, "confirming that my client had knowledge that the loan was obtained using Maya's identity without her consent, that the proceeds were transferred to my client, and that my client was told the arrangement was temporary and would be resolved before Maya became aware of it." He slid the document across the table.
"In exchange, my client requests consideration from the DA's office regarding his level of culpability."
Patrick picked up the document and read it without rushing.
I watched Darren while Patrick read.
Darren was watching the table.
"One addition," Patrick said.
"Your client will also confirm the existence and contents of the handwritten note."
Fitch looked at Darren.
Darren closed his eyes briefly.
"He'll confirm it," Fitch said.
Patrick looked at me.
I gave him a small nod.
"We'll take this to the DA's office," Patrick said.
"I'll be in touch."
After Darren and Fitch left, Patrick and I sat alone in the conference room for a moment.
"That note," I said.
"The one that said 'we.' My mother was involved."
"Darren's statement doesn't name her directly," Patrick said.
"But the investigation will go where the evidence leads." He gathered the papers.
"Maya, I want you to be prepared.
Your father is going to find out about this meeting.
Probably today."
My phone buzzed on the table.
I looked at the screen.
May you like
My mother.
I let it ring.
