Chapter 4 - THE ELEVENTH NIGHT
Inside, the lights came on one room at a time. My grandfather had built the house with wide halls and a sunroom my mother loved. It wasn't a palace to me. It was the only place left where I remembered my father laughing.
Leah placed the envelope on the dining table. "First, your family. A doctor is on the way, if you'd like."
"Yes. And no one comes through that gate without my authorization. Not even Ryan."
"Understood."
I gave Mom the bedroom off the sunroom, where there were no stairs. Emma and Oliver followed her, holding opposite ends of her scarf. The first time she tried to sit, she winced so badly I had to turn away.
"You could have called me," I said.
"She took my phone on the second day. Ryan said your work shouldn't be interrupted."
"My mother needed help. That's an emergency."
"I thought I could manage until you came back."
I knelt beside her. "You should never have had to manage them."
When the physician arrived, he documented bruising, swelling, exhaustion, and missed medication. Mom consented to photographs. He recommended prompt follow-up care and gave her written instructions for pain control and rest.
Leah waited until the children were asleep before opening her envelope. Security stills showed a vehicle parked outside the estate at 2:14 a.m. three nights earlier. A man had approached the keypad carrying a slim black case.
"He claimed your husband had authorized a change to the access system," Leah said.
"My husband didn't know I owned this place."
"That's why we refused. He left when the patrol car turned onto the street."
The still image was grainy, but I recognized the man's posture and leather jacket. Derek Shaw. Ryan's oldest friend, a locksmith who had once replaced the deadbolt on our kitchen door.
"Did he say what company sent him?" I asked.
May you like
Leah handed me a copy of his work order. The signature at the bottom looked very much like mine.
Only I had been in Washington that night.
