Chapter 2 - The Notice Brett Wouldn’t Explain
Brett unlocked the cuff with a small key Dana had thrown onto the foyer table.
He wrapped his travel jacket around Colleen’s shoulders even though the house was warm.
“Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
“Did she hit your head?”
“No.”
Dana stayed near the front windows, arms folded tightly across her chest.
“You’re acting like I tried to kill her.”
Brett turned.
“You chained my mother to the stairs.”
“She wouldn’t leave things alone.”
Colleen looked from Dana to Brett.
“What does that mean?”
Neither answered.
Brett reached for his phone.
Dana’s voice sharpened. “Don’t.”
He called anyway.
Not because Colleen demanded it.
Because when Colleen tried to take a step, her knee buckled.
Paramedics arrived first. Naperville police came several minutes later after Brett explained that his mother had been physically restrained against her will.
There was no dramatic arrest in the foyer.
There were questions.
Separate ones.
Photographs of the cuff.
A paramedic checked Colleen’s scalp, cheek, blood pressure, and knee. She had no fracture, no serious injury, and no need for hospitalization, but the officer advised her not to remain in the home that night.
Dana sat at the kitchen island answering questions in a flat voice.
Brett stood near the front door, looking older than he had that morning.
When an officer asked what had triggered the confrontation, Dana said, “My mother-in-law has been interfering in our finances.”
Colleen’s attention snapped toward her son.
“Brett?”
He stared at the floor.
The mortgage notice was still in an evidence bag on the foyer console.
Later, after Dana agreed to spend the night at her sister’s house while police completed their initial investigation, Brett drove Colleen to a nearby hotel.
Colleen refused his offer to stay.
At the door to her room, she finally said, “Tell me about the mortgage.”
Brett rubbed a hand across his stubble.
“Dana’s organizing business had a bad year.”
“That doesn’t explain a delinquency notice.”
“We fell behind.”
“You told me in June you had less than ninety thousand left on that house.”
“We did.”
Colleen waited.
Brett’s shoulders lowered.
“Dana opened a home-equity line eighteen months ago.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“Brett.”
“One hundred and eighty thousand.”
Colleen stared at him.
“And you knew?”
“Some of it.”
There it was again.
Some of it.
Brett had come home early from Chicago O’Hare because his business trip ended sooner than expected.
But his expression when he saw that yellow envelope hadn’t been surprise.
It had been fear.
May you like
Colleen closed the hotel-room door between them.
For the first time that night, she wondered whether Dana was the only person who had been lying to her.
