“You are not under arrest at this moment,” he said. “But the property owner has authorized entry into her residence.”
Margaret looked at Ethan.
“Stop them.”
He stared at her.
“What is in the guest wing?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“I’m not afraid.”
But she was.
Her hands trembled.
The officer asked her once more to step aside.
When she refused, he warned her that obstructing the lawful removal process could result in detention.
Margaret finally moved.
The security team entered with the police.
I remained in the foyer with General Sloan, Denise, Ethan, and two officers.
The house felt unfamiliar.
Margaret’s framed photographs lined the console table. Her coat hung beside mine. Her shoes filled half the rack near the door.
She had expanded into every space I failed to defend.
A few minutes later, one of the officers called from the guest wing.
“Colonel Hayes, you need to see this.”
Margaret lunged toward the hallway.
Ethan caught her arm.
“Mom.”
“Let me go.”
“What did you do?”
She tried to pull away.
The officer blocked the hall.
I walked into the guest wing.
The sitting room looked normal at first.
Then I noticed the open closet.
Inside were stacked boxes filled with mail.
Not ordinary mail.
Bank statements.
Credit applications.
Loan documents.
Several envelopes carried Ethan’s name.
Others carried mine.
