PART 4
The drawer was in Loretta’s bedroom.
An old walnut dresser stood against the far wall.
I had seen it hundreds of times.
The bottom drawer had a small brass lock.
I had never questioned it.
Why would I?
It was my mother’s furniture.
My mother’s room.
Her privacy.
Officer Mills asked Loretta for the key.
Loretta crossed her arms.
“No.”
“Ma’am, your granddaughter says property belonging to her mother may be inside.”
“A child said that.”
“She’s five.”
“Exactly.”
Officer Mills remained calm.
“Do you consent to opening the drawer?”
“No.”
“You cannot search my room.”
Technically, she was right.
The officers could not simply break open furniture without consent or another legal basis.
Then Danielle spoke from behind me.
“I have a key.”
Everyone turned.
She walked toward the closet.
She reached onto the top shelf.
Then pulled down an old winter boot.
From inside the boot, she removed a tiny brass key.
My mother’s face changed.
“You little thief.”
Officer Mills stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Danielle’s hands shook.
“I found a spare months ago.”
“I kept it.”
“Why?”
Danielle looked at me.
“Because I needed to know what she had taken.”
She inserted the key.
The drawer opened.
Inside were folders.
Envelopes.
Bank statements.
Passports.
Birth certificates.
And my stomach dropped.
Danielle’s passport was there.
Maya’s birth certificate.
Danielle’s debit card.
Her social security card.
A checkbook from an account I thought had been closed.
My mother had taken documents belonging to my wife and daughter.
Then Officer Mills lifted another folder.
It had my name written across the front.
MARCUS.
Inside were photocopies of my pay stubs.
My retirement account statements.
Our mortgage information.
And several pages covered in my mother’s handwriting.
Salary.
Bonus.
401(k).
Insurance.
Beneficiary.
Apartment value.
I felt cold.
“What is this?”
Loretta said nothing.
Officer Mills opened another envelope.
There were cashier’s checks.
Three of them.
Each for five thousand dollars.
All made payable to Loretta Bennett.
I stared at my mother.
“Where did those come from?”
Her face hardened.
“My money.”
“From where?”
“My savings.”
Danielle shook her head.
“No.”
Loretta turned toward her.
“Shut your mouth.”
Officer Mills immediately stepped closer.
Danielle pointed toward one of the checks.
“That came from our joint account.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“She made me write them.”
My hearing seemed to disappear.
“You wrote those?”
Danielle nodded.
My mother interrupted.
“She was helping with household expenses.”
“Fifteen thousand dollars?”
“I raised you.”
I stared at her.
“What does that have to do with fifteen thousand dollars?”
Loretta lifted her chin.
“I gave up everything for you.”
Officer Mills continued examining the drawer.
Then she found a small notebook.
Red cover.
No label.
She opened it.
Every page contained dates.
Amounts.
And names.
Marcus paid.
Danielle refused.
Maya cried.
Punishment.
No dessert.
No phone.
Hot water.
I stared at the words.
Hot water.
Officer Mills looked at my mother.
“Ma’am.”
“Turn around.”
Loretta’s mouth fell open.
“What?”
“Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
My mother laughed.
“You cannot be serious.”
Officer Mills repeated herself.
“Hands behind your back.”
Loretta looked at me.
“Marcus.”
I did not move.
“Marcus, tell her.”
I looked at the notebook.
Then at Maya’s burned fingers.
“No.”
My mother’s face twisted.
“You’re going to let them arrest your mother?”
I looked directly at her.
“Yes.”
