Chapter 6
Michael's father had died nine years earlier.
His name was Robert.
To Noah, he had always been Grandpa Robert from the framed photograph in our hallway.
To me, he had been a gentle man who drank terrible coffee, told terrible jokes, and somehow made everyone feel welcome.
To Michael, he had been the one person who could calm Linda down.
After Robert died, Linda changed.
Or maybe she stopped hiding who she had always been.
The gun had belonged to him.
A small revolver he kept locked in a case.
After his death, Karen took the case when she cleared out part of the garage.
Michael grabbed the phone tighter.
“Did you give it to her?”
“No.”
“Karen.”
“No! I told her I didn't know where the key was.”
“Where is the gun now?”
Silence.
“Karen.”
“I checked this morning.”
Michael stood.
“And?”
“The case is empty.”
I felt the room tilt.
Officer Grant immediately stepped forward.
“When did you last see the firearm?”
Karen heard her voice.
“Who's that?”
“Police,” Michael said. “Answer her.”
“I don't know. Months ago.”
“Does your mother have access to your house?”
Karen started crying harder.
“She had a key.”
Officer Grant took over the call.
Within minutes, more officers were involved.
Linda went from being wanted for assault and suspected financial crimes to someone police considered potentially armed.
The fear inside me changed shape.
Until then, some part of me had still imagined Linda as a furious older woman running from consequences.
Now I pictured her with Robert's gun.
I pictured Noah.
I pictured Michael.
I pictured her words.
You think you've won.
Officer Grant noticed my breathing.
“Mrs. Carter.”
I forced myself to focus.
“Has Linda ever threatened you with a weapon?”
“No.”
“Has she ever made statements about hurting herself or others?”
I hesitated.
Michael looked at me.
“What?”
“There was one time.”
His face changed.
“When?”
“About two months after she moved in.”
“What happened?”
“She and I argued about her going into our bedroom.”
Linda had laughed when I told her I would change the lock.
Then she said, Be careful how hard you push people. Sometimes people with nothing left to lose do permanent things.
At the time, I had dismissed it as drama.
Now I repeated it word for word.
Officer Grant wrote it down.
Michael looked sick.
“You never told me.”
“Yes, I did.”
His face went blank.
“You told me she was being dramatic.”
Memory hit him.
I watched it happen.
His shoulders dropped.
He looked away.
“I did.”
That was the moment something inside Michael finally broke.
Not loudly.
No dramatic speech.
He simply sat down.
For years, Linda had trained all of us to treat her worst behavior as normal.
And Michael had helped enforce that normal.
Now every excuse was returning to him as evidence.
I reached for his hand.
Not because I had forgiven everything.
Not because we were suddenly fine.
But because I knew what it felt like when reality rearranged itself.
He squeezed my fingers.
“I failed you.”
I didn't answer.
He wasn't asking to be comforted.
He was finally naming it.
Police searched for Linda throughout the day.
Karen came to the house under police supervision.
I had never seen her look so small.
The woman who had sent me angry messages now stood in our living room with swollen eyes and shaking hands.
“I didn't know,” she said.
I sat on the couch with my leg elevated.
“About what?”
“The money.”
I stared at her.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“But it's true.”
Michael stood near the fireplace.
“Mom put sixty thousand dollars in your account and you never asked where it came from?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“She told me Dad had a life insurance policy none of us knew about.”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Dad died nine years ago.”
“She said the money had been tied up in some investment.”
“And you believed her?”
Karen looked ashamed.
“I wanted to.”
That answer was painfully honest.
“Why did she put it in your account?” I asked.
Karen looked at me.
“She said she was worried about Medicaid someday. She said if she kept too much in her name, the government could take it.”
“That should have sounded suspicious.”
“It did.”
“But you let her.”
Karen's eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
Michael folded his arms.
“What did you spend?”
Karen looked up sharply.
“Nothing.”
“Karen.”
“I swear. It's all there except the twenty-two thousand she transferred three days ago.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I know.”
Officer Grant, who had remained nearby, asked, “Did your mother have your banking password?”
Karen froze.
“I don't think so.”
“Did she ever use your computer?”
“All the time.”
Michael closed his eyes.
Of course.
Linda hadn't needed Karen's permission.
She had needed access.
The same thing she had done to us.
Karen sat down.
“There's more.”
I almost laughed.
There was always more.
“What?”
“Mom used to ask weird questions.”
Michael looked at her.
“What kind of questions?”
“About Emily.”
My stomach tightened.
Karen continued.
“What time she took Noah to school. Where she shopped. When Michael traveled.”
“Why?”
“I thought she was being nosy.”
“What else?”
“She asked me once whether your life insurance still named Emily as beneficiary.”
Michael went pale.
I felt cold everywhere.
Officer Grant's tone changed.
“When was this?”
“Maybe three weeks ago.”
“Exactly what did she ask?”
Karen tried to remember.
“She said something like, ‘If something happened to Michael, would Emily get everything?’”
My stomach twisted.
Michael walked toward the window.
“Jesus.”
“She asked about Emily's policy too.”
I stared at Karen.
“What?”
“She wanted to know if Michael would get money if you died.”
The room became completely silent.
I could hear the clock above the fireplace ticking.
Officer Grant asked, “Why didn't you think that was concerning?”
Karen started sobbing.
“Because she was always saying weird things! That's just Mom!”
There it was again.
That's just Mom.
Three words that had protected Linda from consequences for decades.
Then Noah appeared in the hallway.
We all stopped talking.
He looked at Karen.
“Aunt Karen?”
She immediately wiped her face.
“Hey, buddy.”
He walked closer.
“Did Grandma really take our money?”
Karen looked at Michael.
He nodded.
“We think she took some,” she said.
Noah frowned.
“Why?”
Nobody answered.
Then he said, “Maybe because of the man.”
Every adult in the room turned toward him.
“What man?” I asked.
Noah looked confused by our reaction.
“The man Grandma talks to.”
Michael crouched.
“What man?”
“I don't know.”
“Where did you see him?”
“He came here.”
My pulse began racing.
“When?”
Noah thought.
“When Dad was at work.”
“How many times?”
“Three, maybe.”
I stared at Karen.
She looked equally shocked.
“Was Mom home?” Michael asked.
Noah nodded.
“They went into Grandma's room.”
Officer Grant moved closer.
“Can you describe him?”
Noah shrugged.
“He's old.”
“How old?”
“Like you.”
Michael almost smiled despite everything.
“Okay. What did he look like?”
“Gray hair. Glasses.”
“Did you hear his name?”
Noah nodded.
“I think Grandma called him Frank.”
Karen's hand flew to her mouth.
Michael saw.
“What?”
She stared at Noah.
“What did you say?”
“Frank.”
Karen stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“Michael.”
“What?”
Her face had gone white.
“Frank Delaney.”
Michael frowned.
Then recognition hit him.
“No.”
I looked between them.
“Who is Frank Delaney?”
Neither answered immediately.
Finally Karen whispered, “Dad's old business partner.”
“So?”
Michael stared at her.
“So Frank went to prison.”
My stomach dropped.
“For what?”
“Fraud.”
Officer Grant straightened.
Michael continued.
“He stole money from their company. Forged documents. Used fake accounts.”
Karen looked terrified.
“And Mom testified against him.”
The room went silent again.
Then Officer Grant asked the obvious question.
“When did he get out?”
Michael grabbed his phone.
“I don't know.”
Karen whispered, “I do.”
We all looked at her.
“He got out last year.”
Officer Grant was already reaching for her radio.
I looked at Noah.
At the child who had accidentally recorded one crime and casually revealed another connection.
Then Michael's phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photo message.
He opened it.
It showed Linda sitting in the passenger seat of a car.
Gray-haired Frank was driving.
Linda was smiling.
Beneath the photograph were four words.
STOP LOOKING FOR ME.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
OR EMILY WILL REGRET IT.
