Chapter 20- DONNA AT THE DOOR
Two nights after the school incident, the doorbell camera alerted me at 1:08 a.m.
Donna stood on my porch.
Rain darkened her hair and soaked the shoulders of her coat. She held no gift bag this time.
Only an old photograph.
I called 911 before speaking through the camera.
“You need to leave.”
Donna lifted the picture toward the lens.
It showed Brian at eight years old, sitting beside her on a porch swing.
“He was a good boy,” she said.
“Leave my property.”
“You turned him against me.”
“Brian is in prison because of what he did.”
“He did everything for you.”
The words were so detached from reality that I almost ended the connection.
Then Donna said, “You have something that belongs to me.”
“The investigators have the lockbox.”
“Not the key.”
I remembered the ring found inside the wall.
One key had been marked STORAGE 318.
The others remained unidentified.
“What does it open?” I asked.
Donna stepped closer to the camera.
“Bring me the keys, and I withdraw the petition. I leave the state. You never see me again.”
“You tried to take Lily from school.”
“I was protecting what belongs to her.”
“You were protecting money.”
Her face twisted.
“That money was supposed to save this family.”
Behind me, a floorboard creaked.
Lily stood at the end of the hallway.
Donna saw her through the narrow window beside the door.
She pressed both palms against the glass.
“Lily! Grandma loves you!”
Lily froze.
I moved in front of her.
Donna began pounding on the door.
The frame shook beneath each blow, but the lock held.
When the police lights appeared, Donna ran toward her car.
She never reached it.
As officers pulled her hands behind her back, Lily whispered, “She can’t come in, right?”
I held her against me.
May you like
“No.”
This time, the door had protected us.
