Chapter 2 - The Police and the Floorboard
Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the heavy Texas heat.
Two squad cars pulled up to the front gate, their red and blue lights flashing against the staged mourning ribbon.
Marcus opened the gate for them, his face set in stone.
Officers Miller and Davis walked into the courtyard, hands resting on their utility belts.
Vanessa immediately launched into her rehearsed performance.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she spun a tale of my grandmother's dementia, claiming the crate was a desperate medical necessity to keep her from hurting herself.
She played the exhausted caregiver perfectly.
Then, I handed Officer Miller my phone.
I showed him the raw red marks on Grandma’s wrists, the tipped-over water bowl, and the scraps of food left intentionally out of reach.
The officers' expressions hardened instantly.
"Ma'am, step away from the desk," Officer Miller ordered Vanessa, his hand moving away from his belt and toward his radio to call for paramedics.
While they questioned a stuttering Vanessa, I knelt under my father's heavy mahogany desk.
I traced the grain of the wood on the floor until I felt a slight indentation.
I slid the small key Grandma gave me into the hidden lock.
The floorboard popped open with a quiet click.
Inside was the missing folder labeled "CLAIRE — IF I DON'T TELL YOU MYSELF," alongside a flash drive and a secondary will.
I pulled the documents out, my heart pounding in my chest.
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My father hadn't just died.
He knew he was being hunted in his own home.
