Chapter 5 - The Left Sneaker
The police found Mason's missing sneaker under his bed.
It had been pushed so far beneath the frame that the first officer missed it during the initial search.
Detective Ruiz called me from Brian's house while a crime-scene technician photographed the room.
"Mason was right."
I was sitting beside Lily's hospital bed when she said it.
"What's in it?"
"A memory card."
"Inside the sneaker?"
"Taped beneath the insole."
I looked at Mason.
He sat cross-legged in the chair across from me, eating dry cereal from a paper cup.
He looked proud for exactly one second.
Then guilt replaced it.
"I thought Dad would find it."
"He didn't."
"He checks my drawers."
"Why?"
Mason shrugged.
"He says privacy is something adults earn."
I felt the anger come back.
Not the explosive kind.
The colder kind that had begun settling into me since the ambulance ride.
"What was on the card?" I asked Ruiz.
"We haven't opened it yet."
"How long?"
"It has to be processed correctly."
"Everything has to be processed."
"That's how evidence survives court."
I knew she was right.
Again.
I was beginning to hate how often the correct answer sounded like helplessness.
Lily woke around noon and asked for water.
Dr. Patel allowed small sips.
Her fever had fallen, but she was exhausted and disoriented.
She kept asking what day it was.
Each time, I told her.
Each time, I watched fear flash across her face as if she believed forgetting the date proved what her parents had said about our family.
"Grandpa?"
"Yes?"
"Do you forget things?"
I smiled gently.
"Sometimes I forget where I put my glasses."
"Dad says you forget important things."
"Your dad says a lot of things."
"Mom said if you forget enough, she gets the cabin."
Mason stopped chewing.
I leaned closer.
"Did she say that to you?"
Lily nodded.
"She was joking."
"How do you know?"
"Because she laughed after."
Mason shook his head.
"She wasn't joking."
Lily looked at him.
"Yes, she was."
"No."
"Mason."
"She told Dad they only needed two doctors."
The room went quiet.
I looked at him.
"Two doctors for what?"
"To say you couldn't take care of yourself."
My skin prickled.
"Where did you hear that?"
"At dinner."
"They talked about it in front of you?"
"They thought I had headphones on."
He looked at his cereal.
"The headphones weren't plugged in."
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
Brian had spent months planting cameras and forging records, yet his entire plan might unravel because his ten-year-old son had been pretending to listen to music.
At 1:30 p.m., Detective Ruiz returned to the hospital with Dana Mercer and a laptop.
She closed the room door.
"We recovered data from the memory card."
Mason stiffened.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No."
"Dad said taking his files was stealing."
"You're not in trouble."
Ruiz sat at the small table near the window.
"Mason, do you remember what you copied?"
"Not all of it."
"How did you copy anything?"
"Dad left his laptop open."
"Did you know his password?"
Mason looked embarrassed.
"It's Lily's birthday."
Lily frowned.
"He told me it was the dog's birthday."
"We don't have a dog."
"I know."
For the first time all day, both children smiled.
It lasted only a second.
Ruiz opened the laptop.
"The card contains scanned documents, photographs, and several audio files."
I sat down.
"Show me."
"Some of it first."
The first file was a copy of the deed to my home.
My real deed.
The second was a draft transferring the house to a company called North Hollow Holdings LLC.
The third transferred Carol's cabin to the same company.
"Who owns North Hollow Holdings?"
"We're tracing it."
"Marissa?"
"Her name appears in one document, but the company records are more complicated."
Ruiz opened another file.
It was a letter on the letterhead of a memory-care specialist in Richmond.
The letter stated that I showed signs consistent with progressive cognitive decline.
The signature at the bottom belonged to a doctor I had never met.
"That's fake."
"We contacted the doctor."
"And?"
"He says he never wrote it."
The next letter came from a second physician.
Also fake.
Two doctors.
Exactly what Mason had overheard.
"They were building a competency case."
Ruiz nodded.
"It appears that way."
"For six months."
"At least."
She clicked another file.
A spreadsheet appeared.
Rows of payments.
Amounts.
Dates.
Initials.
One column was labeled C.W.
TRUST.
Carol Whitaker Trust.
I stopped breathing normally.
"What are those numbers?"
"We're still auditing them."
"Tell me what you think they are."
Ruiz hesitated.
"Withdrawals."
"How much?"
"More than two hundred thousand dollars."
The room seemed to recede around me.
"That's impossible."
I was sole trustee.
Every legitimate withdrawal required my authorization.
I had approved school tuition, summer camps, medical bills, and a few modest educational expenses.
Nothing close to two hundred thousand dollars.
"Where did it go?"
"Several accounts."
"Whose?"
"One appears connected to Howard Pike."
I closed my eyes.
"And the rest?"
"A company controlled by Marissa's sister."
"Jenna?"
"Jenna Cole."
The woman who was supposedly babysitting Lily.
The woman who, according to the family story, had the children while Brian and Marissa were in Florida.
I looked at Ruiz.
"Find her."
"We are."
"Does she know the children were alone?"
"We don't know."
Mason spoke quietly.
"She knew."
Everyone turned.
"How?" Ruiz asked.
"Aunt Jenna came to the house."
My heart dropped.
"When?"
"After Mom and Dad left."
"Last night?"
He nodded.
Ruiz leaned forward.
"Mason, you didn't mention this before."
"I forgot."
His face tightened immediately.
"I mean, I didn't forget."
"It's okay."
"I was in the closet."
"What happened?"
"I heard the front door."
"Did she open the closet?"
"No."
"Did she talk to Lily?"
"Yes."
Lily's eyes widened.
"I don't remember."
Mason looked at her.
"You were asleep."
"What did Jenna say?" I asked.
Mason stared at the floor.
"She said, 'Good, she's out.'"
A chill moved through the room.
"Anything else?"
"She walked around."
"Where?"
"Dad's office."
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
"Then what?"
Mason swallowed.
"She came to the closet."
"Did she unlock it?"
"No."
"Did she say anything?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"She put her hand on the door."
"Could you see her?"
"Through the crack at the bottom."
"What did she say?"
Mason's voice dropped.
"She said she was sorry."
I stared at him.
"And then?"
"She left."
Ruiz looked at me.
There are kinds of cruelty that come from rage.
There are kinds that come from panic.
And then there is the cruelty of hearing a child trapped behind a locked door, apologizing to him, and walking away.
"She knew he was in there," I said.
"According to Mason, yes."
"And she left Lily unconscious on the floor."
"We need to confirm the timeline."
I stood.
"What more do you need to confirm?"
"Everything."
Ruiz's voice sharpened.
"Because Brian and Marissa already have an attorney preparing to say Mason is coached, Lily is confused from medication, and you are a grieving widower with cognitive problems."
I stared at her.
"They hired someone?"
"Not Howard Pike."
"Who?"
"A criminal-defense attorney named Martin Cresswell."
I knew the name.
Everyone in the county knew the name.
He was the lawyer wealthy people hired when they wanted a jury to doubt the weather.
"How are they paying him?"
Ruiz looked at the spreadsheet on the screen.
"That's a question we're asking too."
She clicked the first audio file from Mason's card.
Static filled the speakers.
Then Brian's voice.
Clear.
Close.
"If Dad won't sign, we stop asking him."
Marissa answered.
"Pike said the competency route takes longer."
Brian laughed softly.
"Only if Dad stays cooperative."
My mouth went dry.
Pike's voice came next.
"You need to stop saying things like that out loud."
There was a chair scraping.
Then Marissa again.
"What about the kids?"
Brian replied.
"They'll say whatever we tell them to say."
Mason began crying silently.
I reached over and stopped the recording.
"Enough."
Ruiz closed the laptop.
"There's one more file you need to know about."
"Not in front of them."
She looked at Dana, who took Lily and Mason to the playroom down the hall.
Once the door closed, Ruiz reopened the laptop.
"The last audio file is from yesterday evening."
"Play it."
We heard footsteps.
Then Marissa.
"She won't drink it."
Brian said something too quiet to understand.
A child cried in the background.
Lily.
Then Howard Pike's voice came through the speaker.
"If you're doing this, don't use the medication from his house."
My entire body went cold.
"His house?"
Ruiz paused the audio.
"We believe he means yours."
"The bottle they planted."
"Possibly."
"Keep playing."
The recording resumed.
Marissa said, "Then what do we use?"
May you like
Pike replied with one sentence.
"Use Jenna's, and leave enough confusion that nobody can prove who gave it to her."
