Chapter 5: Teresa Fights Back
The warrant came through at eight-fifteen the next morning.
I know because Reeves called me while I was sitting at the kitchen table of Amy's sister's house — where we'd spent the night — watching Frederick eat half a banana and drop the other half on the floor with great satisfaction.
"We're executing it now," Reeves said.
"I'd like you to come to the station at ten.
There are some things your mother is saying that you should hear."
"What kind of things?"
"The kind that are going to make you angry.
Better you hear them from me first."
We arrived at ten.
Amy came with me.
Her sister, Donna — not the notary, a different Donna, which felt like a cruel coincidence — stayed with Frederick.
Reeves met us in a small conference room.
He had a folder of his own now, thicker than the one Mason had been carrying.
"Your mother has retained an attorney," he said.
"Leonard Pryce.
You know him?"
"He handled my parents' estate when my father d*ed."
Reeves looked at me steadily.
"He also notarized the original transfer of your father's property to you.
The legitimate one."
"He's representing her now?"
"He was, as of this morning.
As of about forty minutes ago, he withdrew." Reeves set a single sheet of paper on the table.
"He cited a conflict of interest."
Amy leaned forward slightly.
"What conflict?"
"We're still determining that.
But his withdrawal tells us something." Reeves folded his hands.
"Your mother has made a statement.
She's claiming that the money you sent her each month was a gift, freely given, and that you were aware the deed transfer was happening because you verbally agreed to it."
I stared at him.
"That's a lie."
"I know.
But she's also claiming that Amy pressured you into calling the police last night — that you were confused and upset, and that Amy manipulated the situation to have her removed from a family event."
Amy's jaw tightened.
She said nothing.
"She's also," Reeves continued, "filed a complaint this morning alleging that Amy has been emotionally isolating you from your family for the past two years."
The room was very quiet.
"She's going after Amy," I said.
"She's trying to reframe the entire evening," Reeves said.
"Make herself the victim.
Make Amy the cause."
I stood up.
"I want to see her."
"Connor—"
"I want to look at her and I want her to say that to my face."
Reeves considered it.
Then he stood.
"Five minutes.
I'll be in the room."
Teresa was in a different interview room than Mason had been.
She was wearing the same clothes from the night before, but her hair was neat and her posture was straight.
Her new attorney — a man I didn't recognize — sat beside her and immediately said, "My client has nothing further to—"
"It's all right," Teresa said.
She looked at me.
"Connor.
Sit down."
"I'll stand."
She folded her hands on the table.
"I want you to understand something.
Everything I did was for this family.
For you.
Amy has never understood what family means.
She took you away from us the moment you married her."
"Amy was scrubbing dishes while our sick baby cried," I said.
"In our house.
At a party you threw with my money."
"I was managing the household.
Someone had to."
"You forged my signature on a deed transfer."
Her expression didn't change.
"You signed those papers yourself.
You've simply forgotten."
"I signed tax forms.
You told me they were your tax forms."
"Memory is a fragile thing, Connor."
I put both hands flat on the table.
"I have the bank statements from your filing cabinet.
I have the wire transfers.
I have photographs of the forged will."
For the first time, something moved behind her eyes.
"That house," she said, her voice dropping, "should have been mine.
Your father promised it to me.
He told me, the week before he d*ed, that he wanted me taken care of.
You got everything.
I got nothing."
"You got the life insurance.
You got the car.
You got the savings account he left you."
"It wasn't enough."
"So you decided to take my house."
She lifted her chin.
"I decided to take what I was owed."
Her attorney put a hand on her arm.
She shook it off.
"And when I'm finished with this," she said, "I'm going to make sure everyone in this family knows what Amy really is.
What she did to us.
I have friends.
I have people who will say what needs to be said."
I straightened up.
"Say whatever you want," I said.
"The photographs are already with the detective.
The bank records are already with the detective.
And Mason is already talking."
Her chin stayed up.
But her hands, folded on the table, pressed together just a little harder.
"We're done here," her attorney said.
I walked to the door.
Then I stopped.
"Mom." I turned back.
"Betsy was part of this too, wasn't she?"
May you like
Teresa said nothing.
That was enough.
