Linda Parker didn't deny it.

That made Ethan angrier.

He stood in the middle of her kitchen while Maggie remained seated at the table.

"You knew?"

Linda folded her arms.

"I knew where Thomas's papers were."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"Ethan."

"Did you know what Richard was doing to her?"

Linda looked at Maggie.

That was enough.

Ethan stepped back.

"Unbelievable."

"Please don't do this," Maggie said.

"Don't do what? Ask why everyone in this room knew something except me?"

Linda lowered her voice.

"Your mother asked me not to tell you."

"And you listened?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she's an adult."

"An adult who was getting hurt."

Maggie stood.

"Enough."

Ethan looked at her.

"No, Mom. Not enough."

"I told Linda not to call you."

"Why?"

"Because I knew exactly what you'd do."

"What does that mean?"

"It means yesterday."

Ethan stared at her.

Maggie pointed toward the door.

"You walked into that house and put Richard against a wall."

"He had his hands on you."

"And what if he had fallen?"

"Are you defending him?"

"No!"

Maggie's voice cracked.

"I'm trying to protect you."

The words silenced him.

She sank back into the chair.

"Two years ago, when that man at your old garage threatened you, you hit him."

"He came at me."

"And you spent the night in jail."

"Charges were dropped."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"The point is that you think protecting someone means destroying yourself for them."

Ethan's anger faltered.

Maggie wiped her eyes.

"I already buried your father. I wasn't going to watch my son ruin his life because I couldn't fix mine."

Ethan looked away.

Linda quietly left the kitchen.

For a while, neither mother nor son spoke.

Finally Ethan pulled out a chair.

"You should have told me."

"I know."

"I wouldn't have judged you."

"I wasn't afraid you'd judge me."

"What were you afraid of?"

Maggie gave him a sad smile.

"Exactly what happened."

His phone rang.

This time the caller ID read RIVERTON POLICE.

Ethan answered.

"Mr. Carter?"

"Yes."

"This is Detective Marcus Reed. I'd like you to come down to the station."

"About Richard Hale?"

A pause.

"About an incident yesterday at 418 Maple Street."

Ethan looked at his mother.

"What did he do?"

"I'd rather discuss that in person."

Forty minutes later, Ethan sat across from Detective Reed.

Reed was in his mid-forties with tired eyes and a notebook he barely touched.

"Mr. Hale says you entered his residence without permission."

"It's my mother's house."

"Ownership and residence are different issues."

"My mother was being assaulted."

"That's what we're trying to establish."

Ethan leaned back.

"What did Richard tell you?"

"That he and your mother were arguing. You entered the home, threatened him, and assaulted him."

Ethan laughed.

"He shoved me first."

"Do you have witnesses?"

"My mother."

"Mr. Hale has evidence."

Reed turned a laptop toward him.

Video began playing.

The angle came from a camera high in the living room.

Ethan saw himself enter the frame.

But not the moment he arrived.

The video started with Richard standing near the sofa.

Maggie was barely visible.

Ethan crossed the room.

Richard shoved him.

Then Ethan grabbed Richard and drove him against the wall.

The video had no sound.

Ethan watched himself release Richard.

Then the clip ended.

"Where's the rest?"

Reed didn't answer immediately.

"That's what Mr. Hale provided."

"He cut it."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe. I walked in and he was holding my mother down."

"Was there a camera in the room?"

"Apparently."

"Did you know about it?"

"No."

Reed closed the laptop.

"Mr. Carter, I'm not arresting you."

"That's comforting."

"I'm also not telling you this is over."

Ethan leaned forward.

"Talk to my mother."

"We intend to."

"Look at her medical records."

"We will."

"Then you'll know."

Reed studied him.

"Know what?"

"That Richard's lying."

Reed nodded slowly.

"Maybe."

Ethan hated that word.

When he returned to Linda's house, Maggie was waiting.

She saw his face.

"What happened?"

"He filed a complaint."

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"He has video."

Maggie frowned.

"What video?"

"Camera in the living room."

"I didn't know there was a camera."

"Neither did I."

Ethan told her what it showed.

Maggie began crying.

"He planned this."

"We don't know that."

"I do."

She looked terrified.

"Last month, I asked him why there was a new smoke detector in the living room."

Ethan stared at her.

"He said the old one was broken."

A cold feeling moved through him.

"Where was it?"

"Above the bookcase."

Exactly where the video had been recorded.

Linda returned to the kitchen.

"Then the camera may have recorded everything."

"If Richard hasn't deleted it," Ethan said.

Maggie shook her head.

"He wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because Richard keeps everything."

Ethan looked at her.

"What does that mean?"

"Receipts. Messages. Recordings. He says information is protection."

Linda muttered, "Protection for him."

That evening Detective Reed called again.

"We examined the file Hale submitted."

"And?"

"There are metadata inconsistencies."

Ethan stood.

"Meaning?"

"The exported clip is two minutes and forty-three seconds."

"Okay."

"The camera log indicates a recording session of nine minutes and fifty-one seconds."

Ethan gripped the phone.

"So there's more."

"Seven minutes and eight seconds more."

"Can you recover it?"

"We need the original device or cloud account."

"Richard has it."

"Which means you do not go looking for it yourself."

Ethan didn't answer.

"Mr. Carter."

"I heard you."

He hung up.

Maggie was standing in the hallway.

"What did he say?"

Ethan told her.

She closed her eyes.

"The missing part would show what he did."

"If we can get it."

Maggie suddenly looked toward the window.

The house across the street reflected the setting sun.

"Thomas's desk."

Ethan shook his head.

"No."

"If Richard is looking for the envelope—"

"Police told me not to go back."

"I'm not asking you to confront him."

"Then what are you asking?"

Maggie walked into the bedroom and returned with a small brass key.

"The back door."

Ethan stared at it.

"Mom."

"Richard bowls every Thursday."

"You know his schedule?"

"I lived with him."

At seven-thirty, Ethan parked two blocks from Maple Street.

He told himself he was only retrieving his mother's property.

He told himself he would be inside for five minutes.

The back door opened with the brass key.

The house was dark.

Ethan moved through the kitchen.

The living room looked different without Richard or Maggie inside it.

The green sofa sat under the window.

He avoided looking at it.

Thomas's old desk was in the small den.

The top drawer had been forced open.

Empty.

"Damn it."

Ethan checked the second drawer.

Nothing.

He crouched.

One side of the desk seemed farther from the wall than he remembered.

He pulled it forward.

Something dropped behind it.

A yellowed envelope.

Ethan picked it up.

His father's handwriting covered the front.

FOR ETHAN.

IF YOUR MOTHER EVER DECIDES TO SELL THE HOUSE.

His heart began pounding.

He tore it open.

No letter.

No documents.

Only a small silver key.

Stamped into the metal were three numbers.

317.

A bank safe-deposit key.

Then the floor creaked behind him.

Ethan spun around.

The doorway was empty.

But from somewhere in the dark house, he heard the front door close.