Chapter 13 - THE LAST VISIT HOME
My mother returned to the house before police could arrest her.
She called me from the kitchen.
“I know you have the storage files.”
I said nothing.
“You should come home.”
“That is not my home.”
“Bring the drive.”
“No.”
A pause.
Then I heard Emma crying in the background.
My blood froze.
Emma was beside me in the hotel room.
So was Daniel.
The crying continued through the phone.
Recorded.
My mother laughed.
“Still easy to control.”
“What do you want?”
“To speak without police.”
“That will not happen.”
“Then your father’s confession becomes public.”
“What confession?”
“He helped me move the trust money.”
“That is already known.”
“He helped me with your grandfather.”
My stomach dropped.
Dad had admitted destroying the bottle.
But not helping administer anything.
“You’re lying.”
“Come find out.”
The call ended.
Aaron wanted to arrest her immediately.
Julia wanted more time.
My mother had locked herself inside the house with boxes of records and threatened to burn everything if police entered.
I agreed to go in wearing a wire.
Daniel opposed it.
“No.”
“I’m ending this.”
“She wants you alone.”
“She has wanted me afraid my whole life.”
“And now?”
“Now she is afraid of me.”
I entered through the front door.
The kitchen looked almost normal.
Breakfast plates still sat in the sink.
One piece of police tape hung from a cabinet.
My mother stood by the table wearing the pearl necklace from the old photograph.
A gasoline can rested near the stove.
“You came.”
“You knew I would.”
“Children always return to their mothers.”
“No. Victims return to crime scenes.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“You sound rehearsed.”
“I learned from you.”
She smiled.
“That is the first intelligent thing you have said.”
I placed the fake drive on the table.
“Tell me about Grandpa.”
She touched the pearls.
“He was a stubborn old man.”
“Did you poison him?”
“Such an ugly word.”
“Did Dad help?”
“He carried the tea.”
My chest tightened.
“Did he know?”
“He knew I wanted your grandfather calm.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“He chose not to ask.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Dad stepped out.
His face was bruised from the warehouse.
“I know now.”
My mother turned.
“You should not be here.”
He held up his phone.
“I recorded every word.”
Her expression changed.
She reached for the gasoline can.
I moved first.
She shoved the table toward me.
Plates crashed.
Dad grabbed the can.
My mother slapped him so hard his glasses flew off.
Then she pulled a lighter from her pocket.
“Patricia,” Dad said, “stop.”
She flicked it open.
The flame trembled between us.
“You destroyed my life,” she told me.
“I was nineteen.”
“You were chosen.”
“By Grandpa?”
“By everyone.”
Her face twisted.
“You were always the good one. The pretty one. The one he trusted.”
“So you stole from me?”
“I corrected an injustice.”
“You tried to take Emma.”
“I tried to protect what should have been Vanessa’s.”
“Vanessa was your weapon.”
“She was useful.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“No, Mom.”
Vanessa stood there in handcuffs between two officers.
Aaron had brought her under a cooperation agreement.
My mother stared at her.
Vanessa’s face was wet with tears.
“You told me Rachel wanted Lily homeless.”
“She does.”
“No.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“You wanted us both afraid.”
My mother’s fingers tightened around the lighter.
“You weak little fool.”
Vanessa flinched.
Then steadied.
“I told them everything.”
My mother threw the lighter.
Dad knocked it aside.
Aaron rushed in.
Officers forced my mother to the floor.
She screamed my name as they cuffed her.
Not Vanessa’s.
Not Dad’s.
Mine.
As if I had caused all of it.
Then the kitchen phone rang.
No one answered.
It rang again.
Aaron lifted the receiver.
His face changed.
The prosecutor had called.
May you like
Officer Grant had been captured at the border.
And he was ready to testify.
