Chapter 7 - The False ReportLinda filed the report on Monday morning.
She did not tell the police that I had simply refused to pay for Beth’s wedding.
She claimed that my grandmother had established a private family fund worth $125,000. According to Linda, I had been appointed to manage it because of my financial training.
She said I had transferred the money into accounts under my control and used it as the down payment for my Monterey home.
To support her allegation, she submitted the forged investment agreement.
She also gave the police selected bank records belonging to my grandmother.
The statements showed the sale of my grandmother’s house years earlier, but they did not show money being transferred to me.
Linda assumed the police would see a large number and stop asking questions.
They did not.
Detective Marcus Hale called me that afternoon.
His tone was professional, not accusatory.
He explained that a complaint had been filed and asked whether I would answer questions voluntarily.
“Yes,” I said. “But my attorney will be present.”
There was a pause.
“That’s your right.”
“I also have evidence that the complainant threatened to fabricate this report.”
Another pause.
“Bring everything you have.”
Before the scheduled meeting, however, my mother sent another message through Beth.
Come to the house at 6:00. We can still fix this.
Susan told me to ignore it.
Then my doorbell camera sent an alert.
Linda, Beth, and my father were standing outside my house.
My mother held an old spare key from my apartment, apparently hoping it would fit the new lock.
It did not.
I called my father.
“Why are you at my house?”
“Your mother said you agreed to meet.”
“She lied.”
“I told her this was a mistake.”
“Then leave.”
In the background, I heard Linda’s voice.
“Tell her we’re coming inside.”
“You are not.”
My father lowered his voice.
“She says she’ll tell the detective you destroyed evidence unless you speak with her.”
I looked around my office. Most of my coworkers had gone home.
“Put her on the phone.”
Linda took the phone.
“Bring the folder,” she said.
“You have already filed the report.”
“I can withdraw it.”
“Not in exchange for money.”
“You are making this difficult.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
I called Susan immediately.
She was in San Jose and could not reach Monterey in time.
“Do not enter that house alone with them,” she said.
“It’s my house.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I have cameras.”
“Keep your phone recording. Stay near an exit. Call the police if anyone threatens you.”
I arrived at Cypress Lane shortly before six.
My family had moved to the backyard, where my father had found an unlocked side gate.
The back door remained locked.
“How did you enter the property?” I asked.
“Stop pretending we’re criminals,” Beth said.
My mother pointed to the door.
“Let us in.”
“No.”
“You agreed to talk.”
“On the patio.”
My father looked relieved.
Beth complained about the cold, although the evening was mild.
For ten minutes, Linda attempted to persuade me to transfer the money.
When persuasion failed, she moved to guilt.
When guilt failed, she moved to anger.
Finally, she said, “You think cameras will protect you?”
I glanced at the security camera above the back door.
My mother smiled.
Then she reached up with a broom she had taken from beside the shed and knocked it sideways.
The camera remained attached, but it now faced the wall.
That was when I understood she had not come to talk.
She had come to frighten me into surrendering.
I unlocked the back door, stepped inside, and immediately regretted it.
Linda followed before I could close it.
Beth and my father came after her.
May you like
My mother looked around the kitchen.
Then her gaze settled on a silver lighter lying beside a candle on the counter.
