Chapter 5 - The Red Folder
“Stay with her,” I told Luke.
He nodded.
Officer Morgan sent a unit to the house and asked me not to confront anyone alone.
By the time I arrived, a patrol car was parked at the curb.
Rebecca’s younger brother, Evan, stood on my porch holding a grocery bag.
He looked annoyed.
“This is insane.”
The officer beside him glanced at me.
“He says he was collecting his sister’s belongings.”
“With my spare key?”
“She gave it to me.”
“Put the bag down.”
He tightened his grip.
“There’s personal stuff in here.”
The officer held out a hand.
Evan surrendered it.
On top was Rebecca’s makeup case.
Underneath were a tablet, a red folder, and Hannah’s wooden memory box.
The lid had been forced crooked.
For a second, I couldn’t move.
Then I took the box in both hands.
“What were you going to do with this?”
Evan looked past me.
“Rebecca said it belonged to her.”
“My dead wife’s name is carved into the lid.”
“I didn’t know.”
Inside the house, Emily’s room looked stripped.
Her stuffed rabbit was gone.
So were the family photographs from her desk.
The blue suitcase had not been packed for a visit.
Someone had emptied a life into it.
I opened the red folder at the kitchen counter while the officer documented what had been recovered.
Cedar Glen forms.
Travel arrangements.
A list of Emily’s supposed behaviors.
Aggressive outbursts.
Threats.
Delusions involving deceased mother.
Unsafe attachment to father.
Each sentence was worse than the last.
There was an email printed on cream paper.
Once the marriage certificate is available, I can update my relationship status in the file.
Please keep Daniel off routine communication during the initial stabilization period.
I sat down.
On the next page was a copy of an old permission form I had signed for a school field trip.
My signature had been cut out.
Someone had practiced copying it on the margin.
The officer asked permission to photograph the documents.
“Yes.”
My phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
“This is Dr. Elaine Brooks with Cedar Glen.
I understand there’s been some confusion.”
“You have no idea.”
A pause.
“Mr. Mercer, we were told your daughter had become violent.”
“She’s seven.”
“I need you to listen carefully.
Rebecca submitted a video.”
I gripped the counter.
May you like
“What video?”
“The one where Emily is holding a knife.”
