Chapter 4 - The Address Book
The silence on the porch became so thick you could hear the hum of Deputy Miller’s patrol car idling at the curb.
Mom’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted frantically from the deputy to the open door, and finally landed on me with a look of pure, venomous malice.
“Well?” Deputy Miller prompted, tapping his pen against his clipboard. “Keys don't just duplicate themselves, ma’am. Did the homeowner give you explicit, written authorization to possess a key to this residence?”
“I’m her mother!” Mom finally blurted out, her voice pitching up in defensive panic. “I have a right to be able to check on my daughter and my granddaughter whenever I want! She’s postpartum, she’s unstable!”
“That doesn't answer the question, ma’am,” the deputy replied steadily. “Did you or did you not take this key without the homeowner's permission?”
Pete, standing near the driveway with his children still strapped in the minivan, looked like he had just been struck by lightning. He stared at my mother, his jaw slack. “Linda... did you steal a key to Jocelyn’s house?”
“I didn't steal anything!” Mom shrieked, her composure completely shattering. “I found it on the counter when I was helping her! I just wanted to make sure my family had a safe place to land because my ungrateful daughter wouldn't open her doors!”
I stepped out onto the porch, looking down at the woman who had spent my entire life treating my boundaries as mere suggestions.
“You didn't just take a key, Mom,” I said, my voice cutting through her hysterics. “You lied to Krista. You lied to Pete. You told them I agreed to let six people move into a four-bedroom house with an infant, and simultaneously told me you were just showing up whether I liked it or not.”
Krista stepped forward, tears of humiliation welling in her eyes as she looked at her husband, then at our mother. “Mom... you told us Jocelyn invited us. You said she wanted us here.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Krista!” Mom snarled, turning her fury on my sister. “If I didn't tell you that, you wouldn't have packed your bags!”
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Deputy Miller sighed, shaking his head. He pulled out a pair of shiny steel handcuffs from his tactical belt.
“Alright, that’s enough,” the deputy said, stepping past the threshold. “Linda Parker, you are trespassing, and based on the homeowner's sworn statement and security footage from yesterday, you are also in possession of stolen property—to wit, a duplicate key obtained through unlawful entry. Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
