NEXT CHAPTER: The Plate by the Toolbox

The courtroom changed temperature.

At least it felt that way.

Mom lowered her eyes.

Dad stared at the bottle.

Tyler stared at me.

Grace stood immediately. "Your Honor, we object to any implication regarding the origin or contents of that container. There is no chain of custody, no laboratory confirmation, and we have security evidence that Mr. Dalton entered Ms. Dalton's restricted workplace this morning and attempted to access her locker."

The judge looked over his glasses.

"He did what?"

Curtis Bell turned toward Tyler so sharply I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Grace handed up the security report.

"The plant documented the incident. Mr. Dalton used an expired visitor badge at 5:12 a.m."

The judge read for a moment.

Then he looked at Tyler.

"Mr. Dalton, did you enter your sister's workplace this morning?"

Tyler whispered to Bell.

Bell said, "My client invokes his right not to answer questions that could expose him to criminal liability."

Mom's mouth fell open.

Dad finally looked at me.

Not at the judge.

Not at Tyler.

At me.

And something in his face collapsed.

The judge placed the report down.

"I am denying the requested emergency incapacity relief. There is no competent medical evidence that Ms. Dalton lacks capacity. I am also ordering that no petitioner contact financial institutions while representing themselves as Ms. Dalton or her agent pending further proceedings."

Grace touched my sleeve under the table.

I exhaled.

Then the judge added, "The alleged power of attorney and the circumstances surrounding this container should be referred to appropriate authorities."

Mom whispered, "Oh my God."

After court, Bell pulled my mother and Tyler into a corner and spoke with the rigid posture of a man discovering his clients had omitted several important felonies from the consultation.

Dad stood alone near the elevators.

I tried to walk past him.

"Claire."

I stopped.

He looked older than he had the night before.

"I didn't know about the bottle."

"That's a low bar, Dad."

He flinched.

"I knew about the loan."

"You already said that."

"No. I knew more than I said."

Grace stopped beside me.

Dad looked at her, then back at me.

"Tyler needed collateral. Your mother said you would never agree because you were getting selfish. She said the power of attorney was just paperwork to keep the bank from bothering you during your shifts."

"And you believed her?"

He rubbed his forehead.

"I wanted to."

There it was.

The family religion.

Not ignorance.

Convenience.

"Did you sign anything?" I asked.

Dad nodded once.

"A witness statement."

My stomach dropped.

"Saying what?"

"That I saw you sign the power of attorney."

I stared at him.

Grace said quietly, "Robert, that's potentially a false sworn statement."

"I know."

"Did you see her sign it?"

"No."

I stepped back as if distance could fix the sentence.

Dad reached toward me, then stopped himself.

"Claire, I was scared. We were all scared. Tyler said if he got the business open, he could finally take over the bills. Your mother said this was how we got you out from under everything."

"By stealing my equity?"

"I didn't think of it like that."

"Because you didn't have to. It wasn't yours."

The elevator doors opened.

Before I stepped inside, Dad said, "There's something else."

I turned.

He glanced toward Mom and Tyler.

"Last month, your mother had me sign a second paper. I don't know what it was."

Grace's expression changed.

"Where is it?"

Dad swallowed.

"In the blue folder she keeps in the hall safe."