Chapter 4 - THE LOCKED OFFICE
The police officer who met us at the house was named Ramirez.
He was calm, middle-aged, and had the patient expression of someone who had seen too many families behave badly behind expensive front doors.
I explained that I needed clothes, medication, Skylar's school things, and important documents.
I also explained that I had already made an identity theft report downtown.
Officer Ramirez looked at the case number I gave him.
Then he looked at the house.
"Is your husband inside?"
"His car is here."
"Any weapons in the home?"
"There is a hunting rifle in a locked cabinet in the garage."
Dana gave me a sideways look.
I had forgotten to mention that.
Officer Ramirez nodded.
"Stay behind me when we enter."
The front door opened before we reached it.
Brandon stood there.
He had changed clothes.
His hair was damp, as if he had showered after Ethan left.
He looked at the officer first.
Then Dana.
Then me.
"You brought police to my house?"
"Our house," I said.
His mouth tightened.
Officer Ramirez raised a hand.
"Sir, we are here only to keep the peace while Mrs. Mercer retrieves personal belongings."
"She does not need a babysitter."
"Neither do you."
Brandon stared at him.
Ramirez's face did not change.
Brandon stepped aside.
Gertrude was in the living room.
She had been crying.
Or at least she had made her eyes red enough to look like she had.
Hailey sat beside her with her arms folded.
The television was off.
The expensive seafood table from the night before had become a stage for victimhood.
"Look what you have done to this family," Gertrude said.
Officer Ramirez glanced at her.
"Ma'am, please let Mrs. Mercer gather her belongings without interference."
Gertrude looked offended that a stranger had interrupted her speech.
I walked toward the stairs.
Brandon followed.
Ramirez stepped between us.
"Sir, stay downstairs."
"My bedroom is upstairs."
"And she is retrieving personal property."
"She will take things that are mine."
I stopped on the third step.
"Like what? My passport?"
Hailey's face changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
Dana saw it too.
"Charlotte," Dana said, "get what you came for."
I went upstairs.
The bedroom looked normal.
Too normal.
The bed had been made.
The curtains were open.
My jewelry box sat in the same place.
But the small safe in the closet was open.
I knew immediately.
I had closed it before work the previous morning.
The safe door was hanging wide.
My passport was inside.
Skylar's birth certificate was not.
I checked the folder again.
My Social Security card was there.
Our marriage certificate was there.
The deed copy was there.
Skylar's Social Security card was missing too.
I called Dana upstairs.
Officer Ramirez came with her.
"Two documents are missing," I said.
"Which ones?"
"My daughter's birth certificate and Social Security card."
Ramirez wrote it down.
Dana's jaw tightened.
"When did you last see them?"
"Last month."
"Who knows the safe combination?"
"Brandon."
"Anyone else?"
"Gertrude may. He gives her passwords for everything."
A voice came from the hallway.
"That is a lie."
Brandon had come upstairs despite the instruction to stay below.
Ramirez turned.
"Sir. Downstairs. Now."
"She is accusing my mother of stealing."
"I am documenting missing property," I said.
"Skylar's documents are probably in her school folder."
"Her school does not need her Social Security card."
"How would you know? You are never there."
That hit where he intended it to.
For years, my work schedule had been the weapon he used whenever I challenged what his family did in my absence.
If I worked late, I was neglectful.
If I stayed home, I was controlling.
If I paid for things, I was showing off.
If I asked where money went, I was selfish.
I looked at him.
"Go downstairs."
His face hardened.
"You do not order me around."
Officer Ramirez stepped closer.
"I just did."
Brandon left.
I packed clothes for Skylar and me.
I packed my work laptop.
I packed the passport, the deed copy, tax returns, and anything containing account information.
Then I went to my home office.
The door would not open.
I tried the handle again.
Locked.
I had never had a lock on that door.
Dana looked at me.
"Was this locked before?"
"There was no lock before."
I crouched.
A new key cylinder had been installed.
The brass was clean and bright.
Officer Ramirez called Brandon upstairs.
This time Brandon came slowly.
"Why is her office locked?" Ramirez asked.
Brandon folded his arms.
"It is a shared office."
"Why is it locked?"
"Because she stores confidential work material in there."
I stared at him.
"I did not install that lock."
"Maybe you forgot."
There it was again.
You forgot.
You misunderstood.
You are emotional.
You are tired.
You work too much.
The entire architecture of his lies depended on convincing me that memory was less trustworthy than his confidence.
"Do you have the key?" Ramirez asked.
"No."
"Who does?"
"I do not know."
Hailey called from downstairs.
"Mom has it."
The silence that followed was almost beautiful.
Brandon closed his eyes.
Gertrude shouted, "Hailey!"
Officer Ramirez walked downstairs.
We followed.
Gertrude stood near the sofa, pale with anger.
"It is only a spare key."
"To my office?" I asked.
"To the room."
"Why do you have it?"
"Because Brandon gave it to me."
Brandon snapped, "Mom."
She turned on him.
"Do not use that tone after everything I have done for you."
Dana almost smiled.
The alliance was already cracking.
Officer Ramirez held out his hand.
"The key, ma'am."
Gertrude dug into her purse.
She slapped a small key into his palm.
We went back upstairs.
The door opened.
My office did not look like my office.
The first thing I noticed was the empty shelf.
I kept six years of financial binders there.
All gone.
The second thing I noticed was the paper shredder.
It was warm.
Tiny white strips filled the bin almost to the top.
The third thing I noticed was my desktop computer.
The external backup drive was missing.
I walked to the desk.
"Someone has been in here."
Brandon stood in the doorway.
"It is a shared room."
"Where are my binders?"
"Maybe you moved them."
I laughed.
This time I could not help it.
"You really have one line, don't you?"
His face reddened.
I pointed at the shredder.
"Who was shredding documents?"
"Old bills."
"Whose?"
"Household bills."
"Open the bin," Dana said.
Brandon looked at her.
"You do not have authority in my house."
"Correct."
Dana turned to me.
"Charlotte, if the shredded materials are yours or relate to the reported fraud, do not disturb them unnecessarily. Ask the officer to document what he sees."
Ramirez photographed the shredder.
Then I saw something under the desk.
A blue corner of paper.
I crouched and pulled it free.
It was a shipping receipt.
The sender was Brandon Mercer.
The destination was a self-storage facility in Riverside.
The shipment description said RECORDS BOXES - 6.
The date was that morning.
I held it up.
"Where are my binders, Brandon?"
He looked at the receipt.
For the first time, he had no answer ready.
"Those are old tax documents."
"They were on my shelf yesterday."
"You do not need them."
"That was not my question."
Gertrude appeared behind him.
"She is going to twist everything."
I turned toward her.
"Why did you lock my office?"
"To protect private family matters."
"From me?"
She lifted her chin.
"From your paranoia."
Officer Ramirez raised his hand again.
"Everyone needs to lower the temperature."
I looked at the computer.
The webcam light was off.
The small motion camera I had hidden on the bookshelf six months earlier was gone.
My stomach dropped.
I had installed it after finding documents moved.
It sent recordings to a cloud account, but nobody in the house knew that.
I had never told Dana either.
I walked to the empty spot where the camera had been.
"Something missing?" Brandon asked.
The question was too casual.
I turned.
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
He knew there had been a camera.
But he did not know whether it had uploaded.
I put the shipping receipt in an evidence envelope Dana carried.
Then I packed the computer tower.
Brandon objected immediately.
"That is a family computer."
"I bought it for my office."
"There are files on it I need."
"Which files?"
He hesitated.
"House files."
"Then I am sure they are backed up."
He stepped toward me.
Officer Ramirez moved between us.
"Sir."
Brandon stopped.
I carried the computer downstairs with Dana's help.
Gertrude watched me like I was stealing from her.
Hailey had disappeared.
"Where is Hailey?" I asked.
Nobody answered.
The red coupe was gone from the driveway.
She had left while we were upstairs.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
It contained one photograph.
Skylar's birth certificate lay on a car seat.
Beside it was her Social Security card.
Under the photograph were six words.
"Stop digging and you get these back."
I showed Dana.
She showed Officer Ramirez.
His expression changed immediately.
"Do not respond."
I did not.
A second message arrived.
This one had no photograph.
"You are going to regret humiliating us."
Ramirez asked if I recognized the number.
I shook my head.
But I recognized the background in the photograph.
The black leather seats.
The red stitching.
The silver seat-belt buckle with a scratch across it.
I had ridden in Hailey's car enough times to know exactly what I was looking at.
May you like
The missing documents were in her red coupe.
And she had just driven away with them.
