Chapter 3 - THE OFFICE
I took Frederick back into my arms.
“Amy, get your purse.”
“My keys—”
“We’ll take my truck.”
Teresa stepped into my path again.
“You are not going into that office.”
I froze.
I hadn’t said anything about the office.
Slowly, I turned toward her.
“Why?”
She crossed her arms.
“Because your guests are here.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Connor—”
I walked past her.
She grabbed my arm.
I looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
“I’m your mother.”
“And I’m telling you to let go.”
Something flashed across her face.
Not hurt.
Fear.
She released me.
That scared me more than anything else.
I handed Frederick to Amy again and walked down the hall.
My office door was closed.
I tried the handle.
Locked.
My mother called from behind me.
“Leave it alone.”
I reached above the doorframe where I kept the emergency key.
Gone.
My pulse jumped.
“Where’s the key?”
Nobody answered.
I kicked the door once.
The frame cracked.
Teresa screamed.
“Connor!”
I kicked it again.
The door flew open.
My desk drawers were open.
My filing cabinet was unlocked.
Papers were everywhere.
At first, I couldn’t process what I was seeing.
Then I saw the empty red folder.
The folder where I kept the original deed to my house.
I turned around.
“Where is it?”
Teresa looked confused.
“What?”
“The deed.”
“I don’t know.”
“You were in here.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You have my spare key.”
“You gave it to me.”
“I did not.”
Betsy stepped backward.
So did two cousins.
I noticed.
“You all need to leave.”
No one moved.
I pulled out my phone.
Teresa’s voice sharpened.
“Who are you calling?”
“The police.”
That finally got a reaction.
Several relatives started talking at once.
“Connor, come on.”
“This is family business.”
“No need to get cops involved.”
“Calm down.”
I dialed anyway.
Teresa reached for the phone.
I moved away.
The dispatcher answered.
I explained there were people inside my home who had entered areas without permission, my personal documents were missing, and my sick child had been prevented from receiving medical care.
Teresa started shouting behind me.
“He’s lying!”
The dispatcher asked if anyone was armed.
“I don’t know.”
That made the room go still.
Then I saw my cousin Mason.
Thirty-two years old.
My mother’s favorite nephew.
The guy who always had a new business idea and never had a job.
He was standing near the side hallway with a thick brown folder tucked under his jacket.
Our eyes met.
His face changed.
“Mason,” I said.
He ran.
I went after him.
He shoved through the laundry room and hit the side door.
I heard my mother scream.
“Mason, go!”
That was all the confirmation I needed.
I chased him into the yard.
He jumped the gate.
A police cruiser turned onto my street at that exact moment.
Mason landed, saw it, and sprinted.
He made it maybe thirty feet.
An officer cut him off.
Another grabbed his shoulder.
The folder hit the ground.
Papers spilled across the pavement.
I walked toward them.
One page landed near my shoe.
I bent down.
My name was printed at the top.
Under it was a signature.
May you like
My signature.
Except I had never signed that document in my life.
