She added, «But listen to me and check it. On the landing between the fourth and fifth floor, the building management just installed a security camera for robberies. Ask someone with connections to get you the footage.»
Saying this, Miss Hattie let go of my arm and went on fanning herself as if nothing happened. I got up with trembling legs and walked toward my car. My head was a whirlwind.
Miss Hattie’s words echoed inside me. Not that dead. Walks with a limp. Opened the door like it was his house.
I put the key in the ignition with shaking hands. A vague but overwhelming fear began to take over me. If Marcus was alive, why had he let me carry this enormous debt for five years?
The streets of Chicago at rush hour were chaos. But I felt completely detached from all that. In my head, a movie was repeating in slow motion, connecting fragmented memories of the last five years.
I remembered the visits to my in-laws. Why did Viola always demand the money with such hardness? The $12,000 were their retirement savings; they didn’t need it immediately.
Why did they insist I pay them $200 every month without missing a cent? Their combined social security checks totaled almost $2,000. Living where they lived, it was more than enough for two elderly, austere people.
What did they need $200 more in cash for every month? To save or to support someone? Once last summer, in infernal heat, I brought them a bag of oranges.
When Viola opened the door, I saw out of the corner of my eye that inside the house the blinds were completely drawn. They didn’t have air conditioning or the windows open. How did two old people stand the heat like that unless they were trying to hide the presence of someone else?
«Mama, Malik is waiting for you!»
The high-pitched voice of my son brought me back to reality. I had arrived at the gate of his school. The boy ran toward me, sweating. I hugged him, feeling a knot in my stomach.
Malik’s father. The day I received the news of Marcus’s death, I fainted several times. Viola only repeated that he had gone to seek a better future for the family.
She had said, «Now that he’s died, we’re left with nothing and with debts. You are his wife. You have to take charge.»
For the love of my son, so he wouldn’t lose his grandparents, I accepted working without rest to pay the debt. But what if what Miss Hattie said was true? The idea made me swerve, almost crashing into a car coming in the opposite direction.
«Mama, are you okay?» asked Malik, scared.
«Yes, baby, it’s nothing. I’m just a little tired.»
When we got home, after making dinner and putting my son to bed, I sat in front of the computer. The screen glowed, but I couldn’t concentrate. I opened a drawer and took out my budget notebook.
The line «Pay debt — Grandparents — $12,000» was circled in red. I had paid for 58 months. Only two were left. If Marcus was alive, it meant I wasn’t paying a debt, but that they were scamming me.
I remembered the detail of the limp. Marcus had broken his left ankle in a motorcycle accident in 2018. Suspicion, like acid, began to corrode my trust.
I needed proof. I grabbed the phone and looked for a name in my contacts. Dante was a cousin of mine, a young computer genius.
«Keisha, what’s going on calling me at this hour?»
«Dante, are you busy? I need a favor.»
«Tell me, cuz.»
«It’s something delicate. Do you know anyone who manages the cameras in the building where my in-laws live?»
There was a silence on the other end. «The one on the south side? I got a friend in the security company that installed them. Why? Did something get stolen?»
«Yes, something like that. I think I dropped my wallet on the stairs. Is there any way you can get me the files from the camera on the stairs between the fourth and fifth floor for the last three months?»
«I’ll ask tomorrow and let you know.»
«Please, Dante, it’s very important.»
I hung up with my palms soaked in sweat. The arrow had already left the bow. I had just started my search for the truth.
The next afternoon, I met Dante on the patio of a hidden coffee shop down a side street. He arrived on time and pulled a laptop out of his backpack.
«Keisha, what’s wrong with you? You’re so tense. You look bad.» He looked at me with concern.
I forced a smile. «How’s it going? Did you get anything?»
Dante nodded. «You got lucky. The system saves everything to the cloud. My friend passed me the files. What day do you say you lost the wallet?»
«Put on the fifth or sixth day of every month between one and three in the morning.»
Dante typed in silence. «Here it is. Day six of last month. Look at this.»
He turned the screen toward me. The image was grainy, black and white. The camera focused from the fourth-floor landing up toward the fifth.
The hallway was deserted. The clock marked 1:45 a.m. and 20 seconds. A shadow appeared coming up the stairs.
I felt my heart stop. The man was wearing a baggy jacket and a cap pulled down that hid half his face. He was wearing a mask.
«Stop. Put it in slow motion.» My voice sounded strange.
Dante pressed a key. The man climbed the steps. First the right foot. Then he dragged the left with a slight limp.
His left shoulder dipped a little when he put weight on that leg. That walk. I covered my mouth to suppress a sob. It was unmistakable. It was Marcus.
I stared at the screen. The man arrived at door 504. He didn’t knock.
He put his hand in his pocket, took out a ring of keys, chose one with skill, and inserted it into the lock. Click. The door opened.
He slid inside and closed it very carefully.
«Do you recognize someone?» asked Dante with caution.
«Put on the previous month.»
Dante obeyed. The sixth day of the previous month, at the same time, showed the same person, the same stealth, and the same ease opening the door. I watched the three videos of the last three months in a row.
The pattern didn’t change. The night after I handed over the money, he appeared. Suddenly, I felt nausea.
Who had I been paying for five years? I was paying the very man who was hiding there, who had cruelly allowed his wife and son to suffer for a fake debt.
«Dante, copy all this onto a USB for me and not a word to anyone, please.»
Dante saw the seriousness in my face and nodded. «Relax. I won’t say anything.»
I grabbed the USB, squeezing it in my hand. This was huge, bigger than if the sky fell. I got up and ran out of the shop.
Marcus was alive, and he, together with his parents, had staged this farce to exploit me to the bone. When I got home, I locked my bedroom door and let myself fall to the floor.
The laptop played the video over and over again. I remembered the jacket he was wearing. It was one I myself had given him before he went to North Dakota.
Marcus wasn’t dead. Why fake his own death? Why use the excuse of a debt to force me to pay?
I remembered the day we received the terrible news. My in-laws wept inconsolably, but right after the funeral service, they brought up the supposed debt.
«Daughter, Marcus left for this family. Now that he isn’t here, we are old and have no income. The $12,000 we gave him is lost. Let’s see how we fix this.»
They appealed to my compassion and my sense of responsibility. They knew I would never abandon my husband’s parents, and just like that, they turned me into their ATM for five years. The pain was transforming into anger, a rage that burned slowly.
Almost $14,000, counting interest and gifts. It was my sweat, my tears. I had saved every penny to support the ghost of my husband and his two accomplices.
I looked at the improvised shrine where Marcus’s photo kept smiling kindly. I wanted to smash it to pieces, but no, destroying things wouldn’t solve anything. I had to stay calm and be smarter than them.
«You’ve played your role as a dead man very well, Marcus,» I whispered. «Well, now let me play the naive wife a little longer, but this time the director of the play will be me.»
I opened a drawer and took out a notebook. I started to trace a plan.
Step one: Confirm the identity of the man in the video.
Step two: Investigate the real financial situation of Marcus and his family.
Step three: Find Marcus’s hideout.
Tomorrow the hunt would begin. I was going to hunt my own dead husband. The next morning, I got up as always.
I made breakfast for Malik, ironed his uniform, took him to school, and then went straight to work. On a sticky note, I started recalculating the figures. Original debt: $12,000.
$200 a month times 60 months equals $12,000. Plus, on holidays, birthdays, and for medicines, I always gave something extra. The total amount I had given them in five years exceeded $14,000.
I thought about how I could have changed my life and my son’s. Instead, I had thrown it into that bottomless pit on the fifth floor. I sent a message to Dante.
Investigate if there are strange movements in my father-in-law’s bank account. I suspect the money I give them isn’t used to live or pay any debt.
Dante replied: That’s complicated because of data protection, but I can try indirectly. Give me some time.
I put the phone away. I needed to get closer. An idea crossed my mind.
If he came back home to collect the money I had just delivered, did he need it for something, or did he live off it? That afternoon, I left work early and went by my in-laws’ building. I parked the car and sat on a bench, pretending to rest.
«Well, look who it is, Keisha.»
A shrill voice called me. It was Mrs. Jenkins, the neighbor from the fourth floor.
«Hi, Mrs. Jenkins. I was passing by and came up to see how the grandparents were doing.»
Mrs. Jenkins sat next to me. «You’re so good, child, paying your husband’s debt for so long. By the way, are they okay lately? It’s just that every night I hear a tremendous ruckus upstairs.»
«Ruckus? What kind of ruckus?»
«Well, late hours of the night I hear strong footsteps on the ceiling, like a young man. And sometimes I hear the toilet flush at two or three in the morning.»
My heart sped up. «Must be my father-in-law. With the pain in his leg, he walks more clumsily,» I improvised.
Mrs. Jenkins made a face. «Pain in the leg, my foot. And another strange thing. Those two are stingier than anyone, always complaining they were left without money because of what happened to your husband.»
She leaned in. «But lately, every night, I see your mother-in-law go down with a huge black trash bag. The other day, out of curiosity, I looked and saw pizza boxes and beer cans peeking out. What are two old folks doing eating those things?»