Chapter 4
Now they were standing in front of me, freshly returned from white sand and ocean cocktails, pretending they had misplaced an elderly woman the way someone misplaces a set of keys.
Dad stared at my phone. “Whatever you think you have, it won’t hold up.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But the police can decide.”
Celeste inhaled sharply. “Police?”
“Yes.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “You want to ruin your family?”
“No. You did that.”
For the first time, my mother looked afraid.
Not ashamed. Afraid.
That distinction mattered.
She reached for the ambulance report and folded it once, slowly. “Your grandmother has always manipulated you. She knew exactly what to say to make you turn against us.”
“She was hypothermic.”
“She is dramatic.”
“She could have died.”
Celeste’s mouth opened, then closed.
Nolan leaned against the refrigerator. “It wasn’t supposed to get that cold.”
The words landed like a dropped glass.
Dad turned. “Nolan.”
“What?” Nolan’s voice rose. “I’m just saying. We checked the weather. It said low thirties, not that the house would turn into a freezer.”
I kept my face still, though my pulse hammered in my ears.
“Who checked the weather?” I asked.
Nobody spoke.
My phone was still recording.
Dad lunged.
Not exactly at me, but at the phone. His hand struck my wrist hard enough to knock the device loose. It hit the tile and skidded under the table.
I stumbled back into the cabinet.
For half a second, everyone froze.
Then the doorbell rang.
Three sharp chimes.
My father’s head snapped toward the front hall.
I smiled then.
“That would be Detective Alvarez.”
Celeste whispered, “You called them already?”
“Grandma did.”
The color drained from Nolan’s face.
The doorbell rang again.
May you like
Dad looked at me like he was seeing a stranger in his kitchen. Maybe he was. I was no longer the daughter who came home on holidays and swallowed insults with mashed potatoes. I was no longer the girl who kept family secrets because my mother said privacy was loyalty.
I walked past him and opened the door.
