Chapter 5
We went back to the hotel with Aunt Linda.
Freddie was asleep in his car seat, so we left him in the hallway with the door propped open, and sat around the small table by the window.
Linda pulled her laptop out of the bag, opened it, and turned the screen toward us.
“I’ve been keeping records on Teresa for six months,” she said, clicking open a folder. “She blocked me on everything after I told her I thought she was taking advantage of you two. So I made a fake Facebook profile, joined all the family groups, saved everything.”
She clicked play on a voice note.
My mom’s voice came out of the speakers, cold and sharp.
“By the time Freddie’s first birthday rolls around, the house will be mine. Connor’s so stupid, he signs anything I put in front of him. That wife of his is weak. One more good scare and she’ll run back to her trailer trash family and never come back. The baby’s better off without her anyway.”
Amy gasped, hand flying to her mouth.
Linda kept playing them, one after another.
My mom bragging to my aunts about how she’d hidden all the bills, how she’d told Amy I knew about the parties and approved them.
Her laughing about making Amy scrub the floors on her hands and knees at eight months pregnant.
Her telling a man I didn’t recognize that she’d pay him five hundred dollars to “rough Amy up a little” if she didn’t stop complaining.
I felt sick.
I’d grown up with that woman.
I’d thought she was tough, but fair.
I’d had no idea she was pure evil.
“There’s more,” Linda said, quiet. “Mason wasn’t the only one helping her. Your uncle Ray runs the title company downtown. He’s the one who pulled the original deed for her. He’s the one who was going to file the forgery on Monday. I have texts between them. All of it.”
She looked right at me.
“Connor… she did the same thing to your dad, you know. Twenty-five years ago. She forged his signature on the deed to their first house, took all the money out of their joint account, told everyone he was a drunk who beat her. He lost everything. His job, his home, his reputation. He left because he had no choice. He’s been living in Oregon this whole time. He’s tried to reach out to you a dozen times. Teresa always sent the letters back.”
My head spun.
I’d grown up hating my dad.
Teresa had told me he’d abandoned us, that he’d never cared about me.
It had all been a lie.
Every single word.
Linda reached across the table, patted my hand.
“I called him last night,” she said. “Told him what was happening. He’s driving down. He wants to meet you. If you want to, that is. No pressure.”
I looked at Amy.
She nodded, small.
Later that night, after Linda left, we ordered pizza and sat on the bed together, Freddie asleep between us.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the voice notes.
About my dad.
About how easy it was for someone you loved to lie to your face for your whole life.
Amy curled into my side, her head on my chest.
“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she whispered. “I want to go home. I want our lives back.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“We will,” I said. “I promise. As soon as the trial’s over, we’re going to fix everything. The house, the bills, all of it. We’re going to be okay.”
The next morning, Detective Reyes called.
“Grand jury indicted Teresa on fourteen counts,” she said, no-nonsense. “Forgery, fraud, exploitation of a vulnerable adult, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, witness tampering, assault on a police officer. The works. Trial starts in three weeks. Ray turned himself in last night, cut a deal too. He’s testifying against her. We’ve got her, Connor. There’s no way out.”
Three weeks.
Three weeks to get ready.
Three weeks to make sure Teresa never hurt anyone again.
That afternoon, we went home.
I walked into the kitchen, pulled out the garbage bags, and started cleaning again.
Amy stopped me.
She walked over to the calendar on the fridge, the one Teresa had covered in party plans and to-do lists for Amy.
She ripped it off the wall, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash.
Then she pulled a new calendar out of the junk drawer, opened it to the page for Freddie’s birthday, and wrote in big, bright marker:
FREDDIE’S REAL BIRTHDAY PARTY. JUST US.
She turned to me, smiling.
It was the first real, unafraid smile I’d seen on her face in months.
“Three weeks,” she said. “We’re going to have the best party this house has ever seen. Right after we send that woman to prison where she belongs.”
I laughed, pulled her close, and kissed her.
For the first time since I’d walked in on that terrible party, I felt hope.
May you like
We could do this.
We were going to win.
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