Her eyes widened. “I forgot.” I found a small pair of scissors and carefully opened the seam. A flash drive fell into my palm. Taped beside it was a folded sheet of paper. Mother stared at the objects as though seeing a ghost. “What is this?” I asked. She looked toward the officers in the living room. “Your father gave it to me before he died.” My father had been gone for four years. “Why did you hide it?” “He told me never to let Julian find it.” I unfolded the paper. It contained a series of account numbers, dates, and the name of a private investigator. At the bottom, my father had written one sentence. If Julian ever comes after the house, Elena must learn what happened to the first family. I read it twice. “What first family?” Mother lowered herself into a chair. Her face had become pale again, but this time the fear in her eyes was different. Older. Deeper. “Julian is not your brother’s real name,” she whispered. I stared at her. “What are you talking about?” Before she could answer, the evidence technician emerged from the office carrying one of the recovered hard drives. “Elena,” he said, “we opened the most recent video folder.” Something in his expression chilled me. “What did you find?” “The files aren’t only recordings of your mother.” He turned the laptop toward me. A paused video filled the screen. The image had been captured in the basement two nights earlier. Julian stood beside a man in a dark overcoat. The man’s face was partially turned away, but I recognized him immediately. Judge Thorne. The same man I had called for help. On the recording, Julian handed him a thick envelope. Then Judge Thorne looked directly toward the hidden camera and said, “Once Elena arrives, we finish what her father started.” My mother gripped my arm. Outside, my phone began to ring. The caller identification showed Judge Thorne’s name.

Julian and Chloe were seated at the dining table.

Three plates had been arranged beneath the chandelier. A bottle of red wine stood open between them. Julian had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to the elbows, presenting the image of a tired caretaker trying to enjoy a peaceful family meal.

Chloe smiled without warmth.

“How is she?”

“Exhausted.”

“She has difficult evenings,” Julian said. “The doctor calls it sundowning.”

“Which doctor?”

His fork paused.

“Dr. Halpern.”

I had met Dr. Halpern once. He was Mother’s cardiologist, not a neurologist.

“When did he diagnose her with dementia?”

Julian leaned back.

“I didn’t say dementia.”

“You said sundowning.”

“It’s a symptom.”

“Of what?”

Chloe placed her wineglass down.

“This is exactly why your visits are disruptive. You arrive without warning, interrogate everyone, and upset your mother.”

“I asked one question.”

“You’ve been upstairs nearly an hour.”

“Mom needed help.”

“She needs consistency,” Chloe snapped. “Not a daughter playing hero for one weekend.”

Julian raised a calming hand.

“Let’s not fight.”

His performance was almost convincing.

He gestured toward the empty chair.

“Sit down, Elena.”

I sat.

The longer I kept them talking, the safer Mother remained.

Julian served me a slice of roast chicken.

“I know this is difficult for you,” he began. “You haven’t seen the daily decline. Mom forgets conversations. She accuses us of taking things. Last week she claimed Chloe locked her in the pantry.”

“Did Chloe lock her in the pantry?”

Chloe’s eyes sharpened.

“Of course not.”

“Then why would she say that?”

“Because she’s ill.”

Julian sighed.

“We didn’t want to worry you.”

“That was thoughtful.”

He mistook my calmness for surrender.

“We have arranged a place for her,” he continued. “A beautiful facility with trained staff.”

“Willow Haven?”

Both of them froze.

Only for a second.

But I saw it.

Chloe recovered first.

“Did she tell you?”

“Yes.”

Julian gave a tired laugh.

“Then she probably also told you we’re stealing from her.”

“She mentioned concerns about her finances.”

“There it is.” He spread his hands. “Paranoia. Another symptom.”

“Why doesn’t she have her phone?”

“She dropped it.”

“She said you smashed it.”

His face changed slightly.

“See what I mean?”

I picked up my water glass.

“When is the van coming?”

“Nine tomorrow morning,” Chloe answered. “It’s better if you leave before then. Your presence may cause a scene.”

“I’m staying.”

Chloe’s mouth tightened.

Julian stared at me.

“We are her legal guardians.”

“No, you’re not.”

“We have power of attorney.”

“That is not the same as guardianship.”

His eyes cooled.

“You haven’t even seen the documents.”

“You’re right. Bring them to me.”

“They’re private.”

“I’m her daughter.”

“You’re not her attorney.”

“No,” I said quietly. “I’m worse.”

Julian understood the warning.

Chloe did not.

She laughed.

“Your title doesn’t impress us here.”

“It should.”

Headlights swept across the curtains.

Julian turned toward the window.

A car door slammed outside.

Then another.

And another.

Chloe rose halfway from her chair.

“Were you expecting someone?”

“No,” Julian said.

Blue light flashed across the dining room walls.

Mother’s china cabinet glowed briefly, then darkened again.

Julian looked at me.

“What did you do?”

The doorbell rang.

I placed my napkin beside my plate.

“I made a phone call.”

He stood so quickly that his chair scraped backward.

“You had no right.”

The bell rang again.

A fist struck the front door.

“County Sheriff’s Department!”

Chloe’s face lost all color.

Julian moved toward me.

I remained seated.

“Don’t,” I said.

He stopped.