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.
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.
“I know this is difficult for you,” he began. “You haven’t seen the daily decline. Mom forgets conversations. She accuses us of taking things. Last week she claimed Chloe locked her in the pantry.”
“Did Chloe lock her in the pantry?”
Chloe’s eyes sharpened.
“Of course not.”
“Then why would she say that?”
“Because she’s ill.”
