screaming incoherently. “This is a domestic dispute! She’s trespassing! My mother has dementia, she fell in the barn, and Emily is attacking us!”
“Save it for the magistrate, Richard,” Detective Mitchell snapped. Within seconds, a deputy had Richard pinned against the hood of his brand-new truck, ratcheting steel cuffs around his wrists. Vanessa was escorted down the porch in tears, shrieking curses at her husband for dragging her into his schemes.
The paramedics rushed to Mom’s side with a stretcher, gently wrapping her in thermal blankets and assessing her vital signs. As they lifted her, she held tight to my hand, refusing to let go until I looked her in the eyes.
“The hearth, Emily,” she whispered softly. “Don’t let them destroy Dad’s truth.”
“I won’t, Mom. I promise.”
I accompanied Detective Mitchell and an evidence technician directly into the farmhouse study. The room smelled of expensive leather and stale
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