Chapter 2 - The Mask of Eleanor
"Police! Open the door!"
The authority in the officer’s voice shattered the artificial peace of the house. I unlocked my bedroom door, took Lucy’s hand, and walked out into the hallway.
My mother was already standing near the front door, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her face a picture of bewildered innocence. Derek had stepped out of the dining room, his drink sloshing slightly over the rim of his glass, his brow furrowed in confusion. Jade, my best friend, was standing by the couch, her phone already in her hand, her eyes locked on me with fierce alertness.
"Officer, is there some kind of mistake?" Eleanor asked, her voice soft and trembling with just the right amount of elder-lady vulnerability. "It’s Christmas Eve. We’re just having a quiet family dinner."
Two uniformed officers stepped into the warmth of the foyer, snow melting on their shoulders. The older officer, a man with tired eyes and a nameplate that read Garrity, looked past her to me.
"Are you Clara?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, stepping forward, keeping Lucy behind my legs. "I called. My mother has my daughter’s life-saving medication in her purse, and she was in the process of feeding my daughter a known, lethal allergen."
"What?" Derek blurted out, taking a step toward me. "Clara, have you lost your mind? It’s your mother!"
"Shut up, Derek," Jade snapped from the living room. "Let her speak."
"Officer, this is ridiculous," Eleanor laughed, a soft, musical sound that had charmed doctors, teachers, and neighbors for decades. "My granddaughter has a terrible allergy. I would never hurt her. I brought her a special, nut-free treat."
"Show them the jar, Mom," I said, my voice dead and cold. "And show them your purse."
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Officer Garrity looked between us, his professional demeanor tightening. "Ma'am," he said to my mother, "I’m going to need you to step away from the kitchen counter and place your handbag on the dining table."
For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped. Eleanor’s eyes narrowed into two razor-thin slits of pure, venomous hatred directed entirely at me. Then, just as quickly, she whimpered, letting her shoulders slump as she complied.
