Chapter 3
I wanted to stay beside Emily.
She wanted me to go.
“If Diane is inside our house, the trust documents may be what she’s looking for,” she said.
“You’re more important than documents.”
“I’m surrounded by doctors and security. Go with the police. Find out what she took.”
Claire offered to stay.
I looked at her and felt nothing but betrayal.
“No. You’re coming with me.”
The drive home was silent.
Two patrol cars waited outside our house.
The front door had been forced open.
Broken wood covered the floor.
An officer stopped us on the porch.
“The house is clear. Whoever entered left through the back.”
I went straight to the nursery.
The door hung from one hinge.
Our daughter’s crib had been overturned.
Tiny clothes were scattered across the floor.
The rocking chair Emily’s father had built was smashed.
On the wall, someone had written four words in red paint.
THAT BABY OWES ME.
Claire covered her mouth.
“She’s lost her mind.”
I turned on her.
“You knew exactly what she was capable of.”
“I didn’t know she would hurt Emily.”
“You knew she was stealing.”
Claire’s face crumpled.
“When Dad died, Mom said we were going to lose everything. She told me the trust was family money. I believed her.”
“For two years?”
“She paid my rent when I lost my job. Later, I found out where the money came from.”
“And you kept taking it?”
“No. I moved out. I stopped answering her calls.”
“Yet she texted you tonight.”
“Because she thinks I’m still afraid of her.”
A detective emerged from our bedroom holding an evidence bag.
Inside was part of a black glove.
“We found this near an open safe,” he said. “Is anything missing?”
I ran upstairs.
The safe had held passports, birth certificates, and the photographs Emily took of the trust records.
All of them were gone.
But our jewelry remained.
“This wasn’t robbery,” I said. “She wanted documents.”
The detective studied the painted message in the nursery.
“Do you believe your mother did this?”
“Yes.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
I glared at her.
She pointed toward the hall.
“Mom was released thirty minutes ago. It takes at least forty-five minutes to drive here from the jail.”
The detective checked his watch.
“She’s right.”
A chill moved through me.
“Then she sent someone.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Mark.”
Our older brother had always defended Diane.
He called her every morning.
He paid her bills.
When I stopped inviting her to dinner, he accused Emily of destroying the family.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
I called Mark.
He answered on the first ring.
“Is Emily’s baby okay?” he asked.
I had not told him about the hospital.
Neither had Claire.
“How do you know where she is?”
“Mom called me.”
“Did you break into my house?”
He laughed.
“You sound insane.”
“The nursery is destroyed.”
His laughter stopped.
“Maybe you should ask your wife why Mom is so angry.”
“Where are you?”
“Cleaning up the mess Emily created.”
The call ended.
I immediately gave his number to the detective.
Claire sat on the bottom stair.
“There’s something else,” she said.
I waited.
“The night Dad died, Mark was with him.”
My mouth went dry.
“The police report said Dad was alone.”
“Mom lied. Mark had been drinking, and Dad tried to take his keys.”
“What happened?”
“They fought. Mark pushed him. Dad fell and hit his head.”
I felt the hallway tilt beneath me.
“No.”
“He was still alive,” Claire whispered. “Mom put him in the car and drove it into the ravine.”
I grabbed the railing.
“You’re telling me our mother staged his accident?”
“She said it was the only way to protect Mark.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Every officer turned.
The house had been cleared.
Someone was still inside.
A closet door slammed.
The police drew their weapons.
“Stay here!”
They ran upstairs.
Seconds later, we heard shouting.
Then a window shattered.
I rushed outside in time to see a figure running across the backyard.
It was Mark.
He carried our missing lockbox under his arm.
He reached the fence and looked back at me.
“You should have let Mom handle Emily,” he shouted.
May you like
Then he climbed into a waiting car.
Diane was behind the wheel.
