Chapter 6 - The Folder in the Sewing Room
Tessa waited until Bryce’s house went dark.
Then she parked two streets away.
Officer Ruiz had told her not to return.
She had also told Tessa that without the original financial records, the recording might not be enough to defeat the guardianship order.
Tessa understood the contradiction.
Ruiz could not officially help her.
But she had left a door open.
Literally.
At midnight, Tessa met Ruiz behind an abandoned feed store near the edge of town.
Owen Pierce was there too.
He carried a ring of old keys.
“I helped your father replace half the locks in that house,” Owen said.
“Bryce changed the front door.”
“He didn’t change the basement entry.”
Officer Ruiz handed Tessa a small body camera.
“Wear this.”
“You are not authorized to enter.”
Tessa stared at her.
“Then why give me a camera?”
“So no one can lie about what happens if you decide to ignore me.”
Owen almost smiled.
Ruiz became serious.
“You have twenty minutes.”
“Do not confront anyone.”
“Get the folder and leave.”
Tessa nodded.
They approached the house through the wooded strip behind the property.
Owen unlocked the basement door.
The hinges groaned.
Tessa froze.
No lights came on upstairs.
They entered.
The basement smelled of damp concrete and old paint.
Tessa remembered hiding there as a child during thunderstorms.
Now every shadow seemed threatening.
Owen whispered,
“The sewing room is upstairs.”
“I know.”
They moved through the kitchen.
A row of pill bottles stood near the sink.
Tessa picked one up.
The label listed Judith’s name.
The dosage was unusually high.
Another bottle contained an antipsychotic.
Another was a powerful sedative.
Tessa photographed each one.
Then she heard footsteps overhead.
Slow.
Dragging.
Judith appeared at the top of the stairs.
She wore a nightgown.
Her eyes were heavy.
“Tessa?”
Tessa rushed upward.
“Mom.”
Judith almost collapsed into her arms.
“They gave me something.”
“We’re getting you out.”
Judith shook her head.
“Folder first.”
Owen watched the hallway.
“Where are Bryce and Kendra?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“Judge Mercer’s house.”
Tessa stared at her.
“At midnight?”
Judith nodded weakly.
“They were angry.”
“They said they had to fix the paperwork before morning.”
Tessa and Owen exchanged a look.
They helped Judith toward the sewing room.
The room had been emptied.
Her mother’s antique sewing machine was gone.
The shelves were bare.
Judith pointed toward the floor.
“Under the board.”
Owen pried up a loose plank.
Inside was a metal cash box.
Tessa opened it.
Bank statements filled the box.
So did photocopies of checks.
Many were drawn from the Fairhaven Children’s Trust.
Several carried Judith’s forged signature.
Others had been paid to companies Tessa had never heard of.
Marlowe Residential Services.
Blue Ridge Consulting.
Mercer Holdings.
Tessa felt her heartbeat quicken.
Judge Mercer’s name appeared repeatedly.
Owen lifted another paper.
“This is a property transfer.”
Tessa read it.
The house had not simply been transferred to Bryce.
It had been sold to a shell company for one dollar.
The shell company was owned by Judge Mercer’s brother.
Tessa looked at Judith.
“How did you get these?”
“Your father.”
Tessa stopped breathing.
“Dad has been dead for eight years.”
Judith nodded.
“He knew Bryce was taking small amounts.”
“He made copies.”
“Then he got sick before he could confront him.”
Tessa looked through the papers.
A sealed envelope sat at the bottom.
Her name was written across the front.
For Tessa, if Bryce ever takes the house.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a letter from her father.
Tessa,
If you are reading this, then Bryce has gone further than I feared.
Do not trust the board.
Do not trust Judge Mercer.
And do not trust Nathan Fallon.
The evidence you need is not in the bank records.
It is inside the blue music box.
Tessa looked at Judith.
“What blue music box?”
Judith’s eyes widened.
“Kendra sold it.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know.”
A light switched on in the hallway.
Bryce stood in the doorway.
His suit jacket was gone.
His sleeves were rolled up.
And in his right hand, he held a pistol.
May you like
“I was hoping you would lead me to the box,” he said.
“Thank you.”
