Chapter 7: The Walls Come Down
Grace filed four separate motions before five o'clock that afternoon.
An emergency injunction halting the cremation.
A preservation order covering the house, the medical bag in the kitchen bin, and all documents signed in the past ninety days.
A formal request for a criminal investigation referral to the county sheriff.
And a petition to void the power of attorney on grounds of fraud.
She called me from the courthouse steps.
"The cremation is stopped," she said.
"The judge signed the injunction forty minutes ago.
They cannot touch Emily's body until a full forensic examination is completed."
I was sitting in the nursery with Owen in my arms.
He was awake, looking up at me with those dark blue eyes.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now the sheriff's department executes a search warrant on the house.
They'll be there within the hour.
I need you to take Owen and Sarah and be somewhere else when they arrive.
A hotel.
Do you have somewhere?"
"I'll find somewhere."
"Daniel." A pause.
"The number Voss used to impersonate Dr.
Wren's office — it traces back to a prepaid phone purchased at a pharmacy in this county eight weeks ago.
We have the purchase on security footage.
Voss is on camera."
I looked down at Owen.
He had wrapped one small hand around my index finger.
"Grace," I said.
"The power of attorney.
If my mother has legal authority over Owen right now—"
"She doesn't.
The petition to void was filed simultaneously with the injunction.
The moment the judge signed the injunction, he also issued a temporary stay on the power of attorney pending review.
Owen is in your custody.
Full and uncontested."
I let out a breath I had been holding since Fort Bragg.
We were in a hotel twenty minutes from the house when the sheriff's vehicles pulled into the driveway.
Sarah had packed a bag for Owen without being asked — formula, blankets, the yellow swaddle from the crib.
She sat in the hotel room with him while I stood at the window and watched the evening go dark.
My phone rang.
Caleb.
I answered it.
"What did you do?" His voice was tight and strange.
"There are police in the house.
Mother is—"
"Caleb." I kept my voice even.
"I found Emily's laptop."
Silence.
"I found the text messages between Mother and Voss.
I found the power of attorney.
I found the photographs of Emily over the past eight months." I paused.
"I found the video she recorded three days ago, when they took her phone and she was afraid she wasn't going to make it."
"Daniel—"
"The midwife gave a statement this afternoon.
The 911 call is on record.
The forged referral document is in evidence." I stopped.
"You knew, Caleb.
You were in that living room telling me Emily wanted a home birth.
You knew."
The line was quiet for a long time.
When Caleb spoke again, his voice had changed entirely.
The smoothness was gone.
What was underneath it was something younger, and frightened, and very small.
"She said it would just be — she said Emily would go to the hospital.
That Voss would just delay things long enough to — to get the paperwork done.
She said no one would get hurt.
She said it was just about the estate.
About making sure you didn't—" He stopped.
"Didn't what?"
"Didn't change the will.
You were going to change everything over to Emily when you got back.
Mother found out.
She said — she said we'd lose everything."
I sat down on the edge of the hotel bed.
"She said no one would get hurt," Caleb said again.
Like saying it twice might still make it true.
"Go find a lawyer, Caleb," I said.
"Not Mother's lawyer.
Your own.
Tonight."
I hung up.
Sarah was watching me from across the room.
Owen was asleep in the crook of her arm.
"Is it going to be all right?" she asked.
I looked at my son.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"It is."
