Chapter 8 - THE DOOR WITH THE BRICK
The doctor let me leave the hospital after two nights. I went home with instructions to rest, keep my follow-up appointments, and return immediately if the cramps resumed. June had made it through the worst twenty seconds of my life. I wasn't going to pretend that meant everything was fine.
Our bedroom was downstairs while I recovered. Owen had arranged it after the car accident, along with a ramp I had picked myself. Serena called the ramp a terrible first impression for guests.
When we got home, the ramp had been removed.
Owen stood on the sidewalk holding my wheelchair while I stared at three bare steps.
"She did this today?" I asked.
He was already dialing the contractor. "I'll have it back before dinner."
"Don't just fix it. Photograph it first."
He looked at me, then took out his phone.
Tessa arrived with groceries an hour later. She had lost her catering shifts anyway. Serena had called the agency to accuse her of drinking on the job. Tessa laughed without humor when she told me.
"I was wet because I jumped in the pool. Apparently that's suspicious."
We ate grilled cheese at the kitchen counter. She told me she'd taught swimming to children at a community center before the catering job. It explained how she'd known what to do in the water. It didn't explain why she was brave enough to do it.
"I wasn't brave," she said. "I was scared out of my mind. I just couldn't stand there."
Leah called that night. Her investigator had visited the rooftop exit with the brick. The inspection report showed it compliant. The photographs showed a door that scraped the floor and wouldn't close.
"There's been another fall," Leah said. "Last month. An older man broke his wrist. His family filed a complaint and got a letter saying the lift was inspected."
I glanced at my own ramp being reinstalled outside.
May you like
"Who wrote the letter?"
"Serena. And Mia, she attached your forged signature again."
