Chapter 4: The Drive Home
Jason got through to the county non-emergency line first, then asked specifically for the financial crimes unit.
The dispatcher put him on hold for four minutes.
He paced the length of my sister's driveway while I watched the front door camera feed, waiting for Tom or Linda to reappear.
They didn't come back to the front door.
"I need to speak with Detective Paulson," Jason said when someone picked up.
"We have a situation at our home — possible trespassing, and we have information related to a financial investigation.
A woman named Margaret gave us his name."
A pause on the other end.
"Margaret who?"
Jason looked at me.
I shook my head.
We didn't know her last name.
We had only ever known her as Margaret, the woman who sold us the house.
"I don't have her last name," Jason said.
"But she said Detective Paulson would know it.
She spoke to him approximately four years ago."
Another pause.
Longer.
"Hold on."
We stood in the driveway for six more minutes.
My sister had come back outside and was standing near the door, not asking questions, just present.
I was grateful for that.
"This is Paulson."
His voice was flat and professional, the kind that had heard a lot of things and stopped being surprised by most of them.
Jason handed me the phone.
"Detective Paulson," I said.
"My name is Claire.
My husband and I bought a house six months ago from a woman named Margaret.
She just told us there's a metal box hidden in the basement with financial records belonging to our neighbor, Tom Harris.
Right now, Tom and Linda Harris are inside our house without our permission.
We're three hours away."
Silence.
Then: "What's the address?"
I gave it to him.
"Don't go back tonight," he said immediately.
"Do not go back to that house tonight.
Is there a patrol car already on the way?"
"My husband called the non-emergency line earlier.
They said they'd send someone to check."
"I'm going to make a call," Paulson said.
"I need you to stay where you are until I contact you again.
Can you do that?"
"Yes," I said.
"But Detective — what if they find the box before anyone gets there?"
A pause.
"Then we'll deal with that," he said.
"But a box isn't the only evidence we have, Mrs.
—"
"Claire," I said.
"Claire.
This isn't the first time Tom Harris has come up in our office.
You understand what I'm telling you?"
I did.
I handed the phone back to Jason.
My sister put her hand on my shoulder without saying anything.
We didn't leave for home that night.
We sat in her kitchen while Jason made coffee and I watched the camera feeds on my phone.
At 8:47 p.m., a patrol car appeared on the front door camera.
An officer knocked.
No one answered, because no one was there.
Tom and Linda had left at some point while I was on the phone with Paulson — slipped out through the side gate the same way they had come in, and I had missed it.
The officer walked the perimeter, checked the gate, and left a card in the door.
I didn't sleep.
At 6:14 the next morning, Detective Paulson called back.
May you like
"We need you to come home," he said.
"And we need you to let us into the basement."
