Chapter 16 - Someone Had Been Inside

Police met me at my apartment while Layla remained at the hospital with a trusted friend from work.

I hated leaving her even for an hour, but Detective Ruiz insisted I should see this myself.

The door showed no forced entry.

That made sense.

Mom had a key.

Inside, nothing looked stolen.

The television was there.

Laptop was there.

Jewelry box untouched.

Then Ruiz opened the small filing cabinet in my bedroom.

The lock had been broken.

Tax documents were missing.

Layla's birth certificate copy was missing.

My divorce decree was missing.

"When were you last here?" Ruiz asked.

"Four days ago. Before the ambulance."

She nodded toward the kitchen counter.

A mug sat beside the sink.

I hadn't left it there.

Inside the trash was a receipt from a gas station near my parents' neighborhood, timestamped the previous evening.

Security footage from the building answered the rest.

At 7:12 p.m., my mother entered using the spare key.

At 7:58, she left carrying a tote bag.

At 8:04, Dad arrived.

At 8:21, he left with a cardboard file box.

I watched the footage in the building manager's office.

My father walked out of my home carrying my life in both hands.

"Can you arrest them now?" I asked.

Ruiz didn't answer immediately.

"We are presenting everything to the prosecutor."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

She looked at me directly.

"Claire, I believe charges are coming. But I need this done correctly."

I nodded.

Correctly.

That word had become precious.

Before leaving, the locksmith replaced both locks.

I removed my parents from the building access list.

Then the building manager handed me one more thing.

"Your mother left this in the lobby yesterday. I forgot to call you."

It was a small wrapped birthday gift with Layla's name on it.

Her birthday wasn't for three months.

Inside was a silver bracelet.

Underneath it was a note in Mom's handwriting.

For Layla, from Grandma. No matter what your mother tells you, I will always be your family.

I felt sick.

Then Ruiz turned the note over.

On the back was a handwritten string of numbers.

A Social Security number.

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Not mine.

Layla's.