Now she looked at it as evidence against her son.
The door opened three inches.
Mason’s face appeared in the gap.
“Can everybody calm down?”
I kept recording.
“Open the door fully.”
“You’re making this hostile.”
“You installed a lock between me and my belongings.”
“It’s temporary.”
“So was your imaginary marriage?”
His eyes flicked toward Linda.
“She misunderstood.”
Linda took one sharp step forward.
“You told me she was your wife.”
“I said we were basically married.”
“You said courthouse.”
“I said we had been to the courthouse.”
“You showed me a photograph.”
“I didn’t tell you to invent a ceremony around it.”
Linda stared at him.
I had watched Mason redirect blame before.
When he forgot a bill, the website had been confusing.
When he arrived late, traffic had been unusually bad.
When he broke a dish, I had stacked it too close to the edge.
But I had never seen him attempt to erase a hundred-thousand-dollar lie while the person he deceived stood directly in front of him.
“Open the door,” Linda said again.
Mason looked at me.
“You need to promise not to overreact.”
“That option ended when I saw the wall.”
Footsteps sounded in the entryway as officers announced themselves.
Mason opened the door.
He was holding a black folder against his side.
I recognized it.
I kept old mortgage statements and renovation receipts in that folder.
It usually lived in a locked drawer in my office.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“It belongs to me.”
He tried to move past us.
Linda reached for his arm.
The folder struck the doorframe and fell open.
Papers scattered across the floor.
A copy of my deed landed faceup.
My name appeared alone beneath the property description.
Beside it lay a contractor estimate for $18,600.
Linda saw the number before I could pick it up.
“Eighteen thousand?” she whispered.
Mason bent down quickly.
“That was only the first phase.”
I lifted another page.
It was a bank statement from an account I had never seen.
The transfer from Linda appeared near the top.
Below it were several large withdrawals and transfers made during the previous three weeks.
None went to a contractor.
Linda took the statement from my hand.
“Where is the rest of my money?”
