“I didn’t know about the pillow,” she said. “I never agreed to murder.”
Julian twisted against the handcuffs.
“Shut up!”
Mercer ordered another deputy to detain Chloe.
As the cuffs closed around her wrists, she stared at me with naked hatred.
“This is your fault.”
I looked at my mother standing in the center of the house she had once filled with music, birthday cakes, and Sunday dinners.
“No,” I said. “This is the first thing that hasn’t been.”
The deputies escorted Julian and Chloe outside.
Neighbors had begun gathering across the street, drawn by the flashing lights. Julian lowered his head as he was placed in the patrol car. Chloe continued shouting that Mother was senile and I had manipulated everyone.
The car doors closed.
For the first time since I arrived, the house became quiet.
But it was not peaceful.
Evidence technicians moved from room to room. The nurse recommended immediate hospital evaluation. Renee helped Mother gather a few belongings.
I went into the kitchen to find her coat.
When I lifted it from the chair, something heavy shifted inside the lining.
I checked the pockets.
Empty.
The weight came from beneath the fabric.
A section of the inner seam had been cut and stitched by hand.
