“I already sent copies of everything to the county recorder and my attorney’s office.”
Gregory stared at me.
“You called the police?”
“No.”
I paused.
“I called Claire.”
His confidence returned for half a second.
Then Claire added,
“And she contacted law enforcement before she came here.”
Gregory’s face changed.
Outside, tires rolled slowly across the gravel driveway.
A police cruiser stopped beside his pickup.
My nephews looked at their father.
Gregory whispered,
“You wouldn’t.”
I answered quietly.
“You threatened my father in his own home.”
“He doesn’t own this house!”
“No,” I said.
“I do.”
The front door opened.
Two officers stepped inside.
Claire handed them the documents.
One officer asked Gregory to step outside.
Gregory looked at Fiona.
She didn’t move.
For the first time that afternoon, he had no one standing behind him.
He walked toward the door.
As he passed me, he stopped.
“You think you’ve won?”
I looked at the cardboard box beside my father.
“No.”
I pointed toward my parents.
“I think they’ve finally stopped losing.”
Gregory walked outside.
Fiona stayed behind.
She sat on the bottom step and cried into her hands.
