I crouched beside her again.
“Listen to me. In a few minutes, law enforcement will be here. Until then, you stay in this room. Do not open the door for anyone except me or a uniformed officer.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going downstairs.”
Her face went white.
“No.”
“I need to keep them from coming back up.”
“Elena, please.”
I took both her hands.
“I have spent twenty years standing in courtrooms against dangerous people. I know how to stay calm.”
“They’re not strangers. They know how to hurt you.”
The sentence carried more meaning than she intended.
Julian knew my history. He knew I blamed myself for leaving home after college. He knew I had missed birthdays, holidays, and countless Sunday dinners because of trials and investigations. He had used that absence to build a story in which he was the loyal child and I was the selfish one.
He knew exactly which wounds to press.
“I won’t let him distract me,” I said.
I helped Mother into the guest bedroom and locked the door from the inside. The room had one tall window overlooking the backyard. I checked that it opened easily in case officers needed another way in.
Then I walked downstairs.
Julian and Chloe were seated at the dining table.
Three plates had been arranged beneath the chandelier. A bottle of red wine stood open between them. Julian had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to the elbows, presenting the image of a tired caretaker trying to enjoy a peaceful family meal.
Chloe smiled without warmth.
“How is she?”
“Exhausted.”
“She has difficult evenings,” Julian said. “The doctor calls it sundowning.”
“Which doctor?”
His fork paused.
“Dr. Halpern.”
I had met Dr. Halpern once. He was Mother’s cardiologist, not a neurologist.
“When did he diagnose her with dementia?”
Julian leaned back.
“I didn’t say dementia.”
“You said sundowning.”
“It’s a symptom.”
“Of what?”
Chloe placed her wineglass down.
“This is exactly why your visits are disruptive. You arrive without warning, interrogate everyone, and upset your mother.”
“I asked one question.”
“You’ve been upstairs nearly an hour.”
“Mom needed help.”
“She needs consistency,” Chloe snapped. “Not a daughter playing hero for one weekend.”
Julian raised a calming hand.
“Let’s not fight.”
His performance was almost convincing.
He gestured toward the empty chair.
“Sit down, Elena.”
I sat.
The longer I kept them talking, the safer Mother remained.
Julian served me a slice of roast chicken.
