Too late.
The sentence hung in the room.
I nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
Kendra frowned.
“For what?”
“For finally telling the truth without realizing it.”
Then someone knocked on the front door.
Mom stared at me.
“Who is that?”
I didn’t answer.
The knock came again.
Two county investigators stood outside with a sheriff’s deputy.
Nobody was arrested that night.
Real life didn’t move as quickly as revenge stories.
But the investigation had already begun.
And this time, Mom and Kendra couldn’t control the story.
PART 4
Within forty-eight hours, Naomi was gone from that house.
I moved her into a furnished apartment near the oncology center while my attorney worked on separating every financial account.
She cried the first night because the bedroom had a lock.
I asked what was wrong.
She touched the door.
“No one can come in unless I let them.”
That sentence stayed with me.
