Chapter 3 - Behind the Wall
We didn’t get to the wall that night.
Gavin made sure of that.
He walked toward Mom, and I stepped in front of her.
“Back up.”
“She needs medication.”
“She needs an ambulance.”
Diane said, “Nora, listen to me.”
“No.”
I grabbed Keisha’s phone from the table.
This time Gavin lunged.
Patrick moved first.
He shoved his chair between us.
“Call.”
I dialed 911.
Gavin stared at me.
Something changed in his face.
Not panic.
Calculation.
He pulled Valerie aside.
“Get rid of it.”
My blood went cold.
“Get rid of what?”
Valerie bolted toward the hallway.
I handed the phone back to Keisha and ran after her.
She raced upstairs.
“Valerie!”
She slammed into Mom’s bedroom.
By the time I reached the doorway, she was pulling open drawers.
I grabbed her shoulder.
She spun and slapped me.
Hard.
“You ruin everything!”
I shoved her away.
“What are you looking for?”
She kicked at me, missed, and yanked open Mom’s closet.
A stack of shoeboxes crashed down.
Then I saw it.
A rectangular opening behind the hanging clothes.
Someone had cut into the drywall.
Valerie saw me looking.
Her face changed.
We both moved.
She reached the opening first.
Her hand disappeared into darkness.
I grabbed her around the waist.
She elbowed me in the ribs.
Pain exploded through my side.
Then she pulled out a small metal cash box.
Dad’s old lockbox.
I remembered it from childhood.
He kept passports in it.
Birth certificates.
Emergency money.
“You don’t know what’s in this!” Valerie screamed.
“I’m about to find out.”
She raised the box over her head.
For one horrible second, I thought she was going to hit me.
Instead she threw it through the bedroom window.
Glass exploded.
The box disappeared into the backyard.
“You idiot!” I shouted.
Valerie smiled.
Then we heard sirens.
Her smile vanished.
I ran downstairs.
Gavin was gone.
So was Diane.
The front door stood open.
Mom was on the dining room floor with Keisha beside her.
“She stopped responding,” Keisha said.
The paramedics arrived seconds later.
Everything became movement.
Questions.
Blood pressure.
Flashlights.
A stretcher.
One paramedic looked at the unlabeled bottles.
“Who administered these?”
Valerie appeared behind me.
“My mother takes prescribed sleep medication.”
The paramedic frowned.
“There are no pharmacy labels.”
“They fell off.”
I stared at her.
“That’s your answer?”
A police officer came through the door.
Valerie instantly changed.
Tears appeared.
Her voice softened.
“My sister just returned from overseas. She’s upset. She doesn’t understand Mom’s condition.”
I turned to the officer.
“She’s been keeping my mother in the basement.”
Valerie began crying harder.
“Mom likes sleeping downstairs because it’s cooler.”
“In a winter coat?”
“She gets confused.”
The officer looked between us.
“Everyone slow down.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I remembered Dad.
Stay calm when the other person wants you emotional.
He used to say that.
The louder they get, the quieter you get.
So I lowered my voice.
“There is evidence in the backyard.”
Valerie stopped crying.
The officer looked at me.
“What evidence?”
“My father’s lockbox.”
We went outside.
Broken glass glittered beneath Mom’s bedroom window.
I searched the grass.
Nothing.
The box was gone.
Valerie stood behind the officer.
I could almost feel her smiling.
Then Keisha called from the back steps.
“Nora?”
She was holding something.
Not the box.
A tiny black object.
A memory card.
“I found this under the window.”
Valerie lunged.
The officer blocked her.
“What is it?” he asked.
I took the card.
On one side, written in Dad’s tiny handwriting, were three letters.
V.H.D.
Valerie saw them.
Every drop of color left her face.
May you like
And that was when I knew the card was worth more than the missing box.
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