Chapter 3 - The Locked Drawer
My gaze shifted instantly from my daughter to my mother.
Darlene’s face wasn't just pale anymore—it was gray. She took two fast steps backward toward the hallway, her hands reaching defensively for her purse sitting on the counter.
"Everett, darling, let's not make a scene in front of my guests," Darlene stammered, her voice cracking with panic. "They are influential people from the church! If you cause a disturbance—"
"Marcus!" I called out loudly toward the front entryway.
My chief property supervisor and long-time personal friend, Marcus, who had driven me from the airport and was waiting in his truck outside to drop off my heavy luggage, pushed open the front door and walked into the foyer.
"Everett? What's going on?" Marcus asked, walking into the kitchen and stopping dead in his tracks as he saw the blood-stained bandages on Laurel's hands and the tears on Maisie's face. "Holy crap... Laurel! What happened?!"
"Marcus," I said, my voice dead calm. "Take my wife and daughter to the truck right now. Drive them directly to the Urgent Care clinic on Wake Forest Road. Do not leave their side."
"On it," Marcus said without hesitation. He walked over, gently lifting Maisie into his arms, while putting a protective arm around Laurel. "Come on, Laurel. Let's get you taken care of."
"Everett, wait..." Laurel begged, tears streaming down her face as Marcus led her out. "Don't... don't let her hurt you..."
"She can't hurt anyone anymore, Laurel," I answered quietly.
Once the front door clicked shut and I heard Marcus’s truck engine start outside, I turned around and walked out of the kitchen, heading straight up the grand staircase toward the second-floor guest suite.
"Everett! Stop right there!" Darlene screamed, her high heels clicking frantically against the hardwood floor as she chased me up the stairs. "That is my private room! You have no right to go in there! I am your mother!"
I didn't answer. I reached the top of the stairs, walked down the carpeted hallway, and kicked open the door to the guest bedroom.
The room was immaculate. Fresh flowers sat on the dresser, expensive satin sheets covered the king-sized bed, and high-end perfume lingered in the air. This was the room my wife had spent three days cleaning and preparing when my mother asked to move in a year ago.
I walked straight to the dark mahogany nightstand beside the bed.
I grabbed the top drawer handle. It was locked tight with a small brass keyhole.
"Everett, I am warning you!" Darlene yelled, rushing into the doorway, her eyes wide with feral desperation. "If you break my property, I will call the police! I will tell the church elders that you are abusing your elderly mother!"
I didn't waste time looking for a key.
I raised my right foot and kicked the front of the mahogany nightstand right beside the brass lock!
CRACK!
The cheap wood splintered open. I jammed my fingers into the crack and yanked the drawer open by force, breaking the brass mechanism completely.
Inside the drawer lay three items.
First was Laurel’s iPhone, turned completely off, its screen cracked near the corner.
Second was a stack of heavy white legal documents bearing the official letterhead of North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services.
Third was a thick black leather journal with a brass clasp.
I picked up the legal documents first. My eyes scanned the top lines:
PETITION FOR INVOLUNTARY PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION AND TEMPORARY GUARDIANSHIP
Petitioner: Darlene Calloway
Subject: Laurel Calloway
Allegations: Severe post-partum psychosis, chronic child neglect, domestic instability, and physical self-harm.
My heart stopped beating.
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My mother hadn't just been abusing my wife while I was away on business trips.
She had been systematically documenting fake incidents of mental instability, building a fraudulent legal dossier to have my wife legally declared insane so my mother could claim legal custody of my daughter and take control of my estate!
