Chapter 5 - HAROLD HAD WANTED TO LEAVE
Harold had considered selling the house.
Not because Kaia forced him.
Because it had become difficult to maintain.
Too many stairs.
Too much yard.
Too many rooms holding a dead woman's things.
Six months earlier, he met with two developers.
One offered $2.5 million.
Harold rejected it.
“Why?”
“He wanted ninety days to vacate.”
“That seems normal.”
“I wasn't ready.”
More importantly, Harold wanted to choose where he lived next.
A condominium near downtown.
Accessible.
Close to the library.
No live-in family.
Kaia hated the idea.
“She said you'd be isolated,” I said.
Harold laughed.
“She meant unsupervised.”
He showed us emails.
Kaia:
This is not a reasonable decision at your age.
Harold:
It is my age. That makes it my decision.
Marcus:
Nobody is trying to control you. We're trying to stop you from doing something impulsive.
Then:
Wait until we know what the neurologist says.
The neurologist.
Again, competence tied to permission.
Dana examined the current developer contract.
Lower price.
Fast closing.
Broker fee paid to an LLC I did not recognize.
The company traced back to a business associate of Marcus.
I felt physically ill.
“How much?”
If the sale closed:
$94,000.
“Commission?”
“Consulting fee.”
“To Marcus?”
“Indirectly,” Dana said.
“Can we call that theft now?”
“No.”
I glared.
She remained unimpressed.
“We call it a conflict requiring investigation.”
That evening Harold received a text from Kaia.
How are you feeling today?
Then:
Did Clarice arrive yet?
We froze.
“She knows I'm coming.”
Of course she did.
I had told Marcus weeks earlier I planned to spend Christmas with them.
The only surprise was timing.
I had arrived December 23.
They expected me December 24.
That detail seemed small.
It became enormous later.
Harold typed nothing.
Kaia sent another message:
Mom should be there tomorrow afternoon. Please don't overwhelm her.
Mom.
Kaia sometimes called me that.
I looked at Harold.
“They expected me.”
“Yes.”
The note taped to his wheelchair suddenly felt different.
Not an improvised insult.
An instruction waiting for a specific person.
Me.
Later Dana asked:
“Clarice, what time did you originally tell Marcus you'd arrive?”
“About four on Christmas Eve.”
She wrote it down.
Then:
“And when did Kaia tell Harold to take all the medication?”
“Tonight.”
December 23.
Dana looked at the calendar.
If Harold obeyed…
I would arrive roughly eighteen hours later.
Not immediately.
Not before.
After.
I felt the first outline of something much colder than abandonment.
May you like
They hadn't merely left Harold alone.
They had arranged for me to find him.
