“Listen to me. In a few minutes, law enforcement will be here. Until then, you stay in this room. Do not open the door for anyone except me or a uniformed officer.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going downstairs.”
Her face went white.
“No.”
“I need to keep them from coming back up.”
“Elena, please.”
I took both her hands.
“I have spent twenty years standing in courtrooms against dangerous people. I know how to stay calm.”
“They’re not strangers. They know how to hurt you.”
The sentence carried more meaning than she intended.
Julian knew my history. He knew I blamed myself for leaving home after college. He knew I had missed birthdays, holidays, and countless Sunday dinners because of trials and investigations. He had used that absence to build a story in which he was the loyal child and I was the selfish one.
He knew exactly which wounds to press.
“I won’t let him distract me,” I said.
I helped Mother into the guest bedroom and locked the door from the inside. The room had one tall window overlooking the backyard. I checked that it opened easily in case officers needed another way in.
Then I walked downstairs.
Julian and Chloe were seated at the dining table.
Three plates had been arranged beneath the chandelier. A bottle of red wine stood open between them. Julian had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to the elbows, presenting the image of a tired caretaker trying to enjoy a peaceful family meal.
Chloe smiled without warmth.
“How is she?”
“Exhausted.”
“She has difficult evenings,” Julian said. “The doctor calls it sundowning.”
“Which doctor?”
His fork paused.
“Dr. Halpern.”
I had met Dr. Halpern once. He was Mother’s cardiologist, not a neurologist.
“When did he diagnose her with dementia?”
Julian leaned back.
“I didn’t say dementia.”
“You said sundowning.”
“It’s a symptom.”
“Of what?”
Chloe placed her wineglass down.
“This is exactly why your visits are disruptive. You arrive without warning, interrogate everyone, and upset your mother.”
