Instead, I drove home.
The house looked smaller when I approached it as a dead woman.
My key still worked.
I entered through the laundry room.
The smell hit me first.
My home.
Cedar cleaner.
Coffee.
Preston’s cologne.
For eleven years, those smells had meant safety.
Now they smelled like crime.
Nothing had changed.
That was the worst part.
My shoes still sat by the stairs.
My mug remained beside the sink.
A grocery list in my handwriting was attached to the refrigerator.
Eggs.
Apples.
Cinnamon.
Milk.
I stared at the last word.
Then tore the paper down.
I went upstairs.
My closet had been disturbed.
Several handbags were gone.
Two jewelry boxes were empty.
My sister had not waited long.
Preston’s office was locked.
I had expected that.
I used the emergency key hidden above the basement door.
Inside, his desk looked clean.
Too clean.
I searched drawers.
Files.
Cabinets.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
Preston loved symmetry.
Every object on his desk lined up perfectly.
Except the lowest shelf of the bookcase.
One book leaned slightly forward.
I pulled it.
Nothing happened.
This was not a movie.
No secret door opened.
I almost laughed.
Then I noticed the camera mounted beneath the shelf.
A small home-security camera.
Pointed at the desk.
Not the room.
The desk.
Why would Preston record himself working?
I removed the memory card.
Behind the camera was a key taped to the wall.
The key opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
Inside was a folder marked:
RMV
My initials.
The first page was my insurance policy.
The second was a copy of my grandmother’s trust.
The third was something I did not understand.
A letter.
Typed.
Unsigned.
Upon confirmation of Renee Vale’s death prior to her fortieth birthday, the Mercer family holding provision becomes operative.
Trustee authority returns in full to Deborah Mercer pending reassignment.
My hands went cold.
Deborah.
My mother.
I read further.
Spousal reimbursement petition may be filed separately.
Expected settlement value contingent upon cooperation of trustee.
Cooperation of trustee.
My stomach twisted.
Then a floorboard creaked downstairs.
I froze.
Someone was in the house.
I shoved the documents into my jacket.
Footsteps entered the hallway.
I looked toward the window.
Second floor.
Too high.
Closet.
No.
Bathroom.
No.
