Chapter 4 - The Golden Child’s Legacy
The silence that followed my question was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
Even Derek stopped talking. He looked at the EpiPens, then at the jar, and finally at Eleanor. For the first time, a shadow of doubt crossed his face. He knew how meticulous I was about Lucy's allergy. He knew there was never, under any circumstances, peanut products allowed within our walls.
"Ma'am, please turn around and place your hands behind your back," Officer Garrity said.
"No! You can’t do this!" Eleanor screamed. The sweet, fragile grandmother vanished. Her voice became raspy, powerful, and terrifyingly familiar. "Clara, tell them to stop! You’re doing this to punish me! Just like you did with Trevor!"
At the mention of my brother’s name, my chest tightened.
Trevor had died fifteen years ago. He was the golden child, the athletic, perfect son who had developed a mysterious, sudden illness in high school that doctors could never quite pinpoint. He had wasted away slowly, with Eleanor constantly at his bedside, receiving the sympathy of the entire town, basking in the glow of being a tragic, devoted mother.
I was fifteen when Trevor died. I had found a box of unmarked pills in Eleanor’s bathroom back then, but when I tried to show my father, he told me I was being hysterical. He told me to keep the peace.
I had spent fifteen years wondering if I had imagined it.
"Officer," I said, my voice shaking but resolute. "My brother died under mysterious circumstances while under her care. I want this recorded. I want a full investigation into her history."
"You ungrateful little bitch!" Eleanor roared, lunging toward me.
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Before she could reach me, Officer Garrity and Officer Reyes grabbed her arms, pinning her against the dining table. The silver-plated holiday silverware rattled.
Within seconds, the cold metal of handcuffs clicked around her wrists.
