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Chloe stood up halfway from her chair.
“Were you expecting someone?”
—No —said Julian—.
The blue light passed through the walls of the dining room.
The mother’s porcelain cabinet glowed briefly, then went dark again.
Julian looked at me.
– What did you do?
The doorbell rang.
I placed my napkin next to my plate.
“I made a phone call.”
He stood up so fast that his chair scraped against the back of his chair.
– You had no right.
The bell rang again.
A fist slammed on the front door.
“County Sheriff’s Department!”
Chloe’s face lost all color.
Julian approached me.
I remained seated.
“Don’t do it,” I said.
It stopped.
For the first time that night, she seemed to see me clearly, not as her absent sister, not as the guilty daughter she could manipulate, but as the prosecutor who had spent half his life dismantling lies more sophisticated than hers.
The banging started again.
“Open the door!”
Julian’s jaw clenched.
“You are destroying this family.”
“No,” I said. “I’m documenting who did it.”
He opened the door.
Sheriff Daniel Mercer stood on the porch with two deputies. Behind them were an investigator from Adult Protective Services and a woman carrying a medical bag.
Mercer was holding a folded document.
¿Julian Vance?
– Yeah.
“We have an emergency protective order regarding Margaret Vance. You and Chloe Vance are prohibited from contacting her pending the investigation. You are required to vacate the premises immediately.”
“This is crazy!” Chloe shouted. “She’s confused!”
The APS researcher took a step forward.
“My name is Renee Dalton. We need to speak with Ms. Vance privately.”
Julian blocked the door.
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