Chapter 7: What Diane Came to Take
I called the non-emergency line again.
Same words, same address.
Diane didn't leave.
She stood on the porch with her arms crossed and watched me make the call.
When I finished, she sat down on the porch swing like she owned it.
Maybe she thought she did.
The same deputy from the day before arrived.
He recognized me before he was out of the car.
"Ma'am." He nodded at me, then looked at Diane.
"Ma'am.
I'm going to need to ask you to step away from the property."
"I'm the daughter-in-law of the deceased," Diane said.
"I have every right—"
"The property is currently under a deed dispute," the deputy said.
"Until that's resolved, no one enters without court authorization.
That includes family members."
Diane stood slowly.
"This is harassment."
"This is the law," he said.
"I'll need to ask you to leave."
She came down the porch steps.
She passed close enough to me that I could smell her perfume.
"You think you've won something," she said, low enough that only I could hear.
"You haven't.
You've just made it personal."
She got into a silver car parked two houses down and drove away.
The deputy waited until she was gone.
"You doing okay?"
"I'm fine," I said.
"What was she actually trying to do?"
He looked at the door, then back at me.
"Hard to say.
Could be what she said — personal items.
Could be documents.
Could be something she wanted removed before anyone inventoried the house."
"Can we inventory it?"
"Your attorney would need to request that through the court.
But yes — it can be done." He paused.
"I'd do it soon."
I called Marsh from the front step.
"She had a key," I said.
"Eleanor may have given it to her years ago," Marsh said.
"Or Douglas may have had one copied.
Either way, we need that lock changed and we need a court order to inventory the contents before anything goes missing." He was already moving.
I could hear papers.
"I'll file this afternoon."
"What would she have been looking for?"
A pause.
"Eleanor mentioned, in her letter to me, that she kept certain documents at home.
Her original will — the one that predates the deed transfer.
Financial records.
And a journal." His voice was careful.
"She said the journal contained a record of every conversation she'd had with Douglas over the past two years.
Every threat.
Every demand.
Every visit."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"That journal is evidence."
"It could be the most important piece of evidence we have," Marsh said.
"Which means Douglas almost certainly knows it exists."
The lock was changed that afternoon by a locksmith Marsh arranged.
I stood on the porch and watched it happen.
The deputy had agreed to drive past twice that evening.
That night I sat at my kitchen window with the lights off and looked at Eleanor's house.
I thought about her writing in that journal.
Every threat recorded.
Every demand.
An 82-year-old woman, alone, building a case against her own son because she knew no one else would.
She'd done everything right.
She'd just needed someone on the other side of the fence to still be standing when it mattered.
My phone rang.
Marsh.
"The court order for the inventory came through faster than expected," he said.
"Judge Harlan.
He was not pleased with the timeline of Douglas's filing." A pause.
"We go in tomorrow morning at nine.
I need you there."
"I'll be there."
"Sarah." He said my name like he was choosing it carefully.
"The locksmith found something when he removed the old lock cylinder.
Tucked into the door frame.
A small key." Another pause.
"It has a number on it.
May you like
Looks like a safe deposit box key."
The journal might not be in the house at all.
