When we entered Susan’s room, she was sitting upright against the pillows.
The officer approached her.
“Ma’am, are you staying here voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Has Jake forced you to remain here?”
“No.”
“Has he ever asked you for money?”
“No.”
“Has he ever pressured you to sign any documents?”
Susan gave a faint smile.
“That boy won’t even let me reimburse him for groceries.”
Tom interrupted.
“Ask her why he locks himself in here with her every night.”
The room went silent.
Susan looked at Tom.
“Do you really want to know?”
Tom didn’t answer.
Susan turned her eyes toward me.
“Jake comes in here every evening and tells me stories about my son, Mark.”
Lisa’s expression changed.
“Mark?”
“Yes. The same Mark whose funeral ended, after which all of you went back to your own lives and left me alone.”
Nobody said a word.
I sat down on the chair.
