Chapter 5: What Detective Reyes Already Knew
Grandma set the phone down on the arm of her chair.
"She's been building a file on him for eighteen months," she said.
"Two other women came forward.
Widows, both of them.
He used the same pattern — found them when they were grieving, moved fast, got access to their finances, then disappeared before anyone could prove intent."
"Did he take their money?"
"One of them, yes.
Cleaned out a joint account and was gone inside a year.
The other one — she caught on early.
Froze her accounts before he could act." Grandma paused.
"Ronnie moved on to your mother after that."
I sat down.
"So he's been doing this for years and nobody stopped him."
"Nobody had enough.
Each case was in a different county.
Different name variations.
He's careful." She looked at me steadily.
"Until now, nobody had the full picture in one place."
"But you do."
"Detective Reyes does.
I've been sending her what I find, piece by piece." She folded her hands.
"What she needs is a formal statement.
From you.
About what happened at the restaurant.
About the loan request.
About the text messages."
I thought about the texts still sitting on my phone.
*How did it go, sweetheart?
She say yes?* And the one from outside: *Don't make me come find you.*
"That's evidence," I said.
"Yes."
I pulled out my phone and scrolled back through the conversation.
Every message he'd sent since he showed up at my dorm.
The dinner invitation.
The questions about Grandma's health.
The push for the loan.
The texts while I was sitting across from Grandma trying to lie for him.
I read them like I was reading them for the first time.
"He was never here for me," I said.
"No, sweetheart."
"The restaurant.
The pen.
Asking about Mom." My voice stayed level.
"All of it was just — setup."
"Yes."
I put the phone on the table.
"I want to give the statement."
Grandma nodded slowly.
"Detective Reyes can come here tomorrow morning.
I asked her to give you tonight."
"I don't need tonight."
"I know.
But I do." Her voice was quieter now.
"I need one evening of just you and me before this becomes something official and complicated and out of our hands." She looked at me.
"Is that all right?"
I looked at her — the careful way she was holding herself, the folder of documents she'd been building for two years, the camera she'd had installed outside her own front door.
"Yeah," I said.
"That's all right."
She got up and went to the kitchen.
I heard the kettle fill, the click of the burner.
I picked up my mother's letter again and read it one more time.
*I loved you more than I was brave.*
My phone lit up on the table.
A new number.
No name.
I answered it.
"Sophie." Ronnie's voice.
Calm now, the smile gone from it entirely.
"I think we need to have a real conversation.
Just the two of us.
No grandmothers.
No old files." A pause.
"I know some things about your mother that you don't.
Things she wouldn't want your grandmother to tell you.
Things that might change how you're feeling right now."
I didn't say anything.
"I'm not a bad person, Sophie.
I made mistakes.
But so did she." His voice dropped.
"Meet me tomorrow.
Just coffee.
And I'll tell you everything."
The kettle started to whistle in the kitchen.
"I'll think about it," I said.
I ended the call.
Grandma appeared in the doorway with two cups.
"Who was that?"
I set the phone down.
"He has a new number," I said.
"And he says he knows things about Mom."
Grandma's expression didn't shift.
May you like
But she set one of the cups down very carefully, like she was making sure it didn't make a sound.
"What kind of things?" she said.
