Chapter 7: The Restraining Order That Wasn't
Patricia had a contact at the county records office who could run a search inside of an hour.
There was no restraining order.
Not in Dallas County.
Not in any adjacent county.
Not in Sarah's name, not in Sophie's name, not filed by Evelyn or anyone connected to the family.
"She made it up," I said.
"She made it up," Patricia confirmed.
"Which tells us two things.
First, she's frightened.
Second, she's willing to fabricate evidence.
Both of those things are useful to us."
We were sitting across from each other in Patricia's office — a quiet room with pale wood furniture and a window that looked out onto a courtyard.
Patricia had a yellow legal pad in front of her covered in neat handwriting.
She hadn't stopped writing since I sat down.
"She's going to try something else," I said.
"She doesn't stop."
"I know the type." Patricia set her pen down.
"Here's what I want you to understand.
Every move she makes from this point forward creates a record.
The fabricated restraining order.
The threat in the text.
All of it goes into the file.
She thinks she's applying pressure.
She's actually building our case."
My formal statement took ninety minutes.
Patricia asked questions I hadn't expected — small details, timestamps, exact words, the specific location of the peanut butter jar on the tray, the look on Evelyn's face when Tyler spoke.
I answered everything I could remember.
For the things I wasn't certain of, Patricia wrote *approximate* in the margin and moved on.
When we finished, she walked me through what would happen next.
The DA's office would review the file.
If they moved forward, Evelyn and potentially Daniel would be contacted.
There would be an investigation.
It could take weeks.
"Weeks," I said.
"Possibly longer.
I want to be honest with you."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, you protect Sophie, you document everything, and you do not engage with Evelyn or Daniel outside of written communication that goes through me first." She paused.
"I also want to discuss a protective order for Sophie.
Given the pattern of behavior, I think we have grounds."
I nodded.
"There's one more thing." Patricia folded her hands on the pad.
"Garrett has agreed to give a formal statement.
He called my office this morning."
I hadn't expected that.
"He called you?"
"He called the number Margaret gave him.
He wants to cooperate fully.
He said —" She glanced at her notes.
"He said he's been carrying this for two years and he's done carrying it."
Something loosened in my chest.
Just slightly.
"What about Margaret's recording?" I asked.
"Admissible in Texas under single-party consent.
She was a participant in the conversation.
She had every right to record it." Patricia allowed herself a small, precise smile.
"Evelyn chose the wrong sister to underestimate."
I drove home with the windows down.
The afternoon was warm and bright and entirely indifferent to everything that had just happened, the way afternoons always are.
My phone rang when I was two blocks from the house.
Daniel.
I let it ring through to voicemail.
Then I pulled over and listened to the message.
His voice was hoarse.
He sounded like someone who had not slept.
*Sarah.
I need you to hear me out.
I know what you think.
But there are things you don't know.
Things about why — I can't explain it in a message.
Please.
Just give me one hour.
I'm not asking for more than that.*
I sat with the phone in my lap for a long moment.
Then I forwarded the voicemail to Patricia and pulled back onto the road.
Whatever Daniel needed to explain, he could explain it to her first.
But his words stayed with me all the way home: *things you don't know.*
I had thought I knew the shape of what had happened.
May you like
I had thought the kitchen footage and Tyler's video and Garrett's confession had given me the full picture.
I was wrong.
