We sat at my kitchen table.
Morning light came through the blinds.
My coffee machine was running, but I had forgotten to place a mug underneath it.
Coffee dripped onto the counter.
I didn’t even notice.
The officer opened his notebook.
“Your brother was not in any emergency room last night.”
I let out a small laugh.
Not because it was funny.
Because I already knew.
“I knew it.”
The officer continued.
“There was a disturbance at your parents’ house around 1:40 a.m.”
My body went still.
“Your brother was there. Your parents were there. Your sister was there.”
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
The officer looked down at his notes.
“Your sister arrived after receiving the call. She believed she was going to help with medical expenses.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she did.
Emily believed every emergency.
“She found your brother sitting in the kitchen,” he continued.
“No hospital visit. No ambulance. No medical treatment.”
He paused.
“There was a broken lamp, an empty alcohol glass, and documents spread across the table.”
My eyebrows pulled together.
“What documents?”
The officer reached into a folder.
He placed a page on the table.
I didn’t touch it.
I didn’t have to.
I recognized my own information.
A copy of my driver’s license.
A tax document.
An old bank check.
Documents I had never given anyone permission to use.
Then I saw the note.
Handwritten.
My mother’s handwriting.
The words made my entire body go cold.
“Cry first. Don’t let Olivia ask too many questions. If she asks for hospital name, say County General.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
The Real Plan
The officer continued.
“They also found a partially completed loan application.”
He slid another page across the table.
My name was printed at the top.
