Sheriff Donnelly’s hand hovered over his holster. “Drop the can, Chad. It’s over. We found Clara’s meds in your trash, and we’ve got the forged deeds.”
“Forged?” Veronica shrieked, bursting out the front door of the luxury house. Her designer blouse was torn, her hair wild. She pointed a trembling finger straight at me. “She signed it! Mom agreed! She wanted us to have a better life!”
“Like hell she did,” I stepped forward, my boots crunching on the pristine driveway. My hands were still stained with the red dirt from the clay pit, and the memory of my mother curled in the dark drove every breath I took. “You didn’t want a better life, Ronnie. You wanted a shortcut. You put our mother in a hole to rot for a million-dollar payout.”
“She was seventy-six!” Veronica screamed, tears finally breaking, though there was no remorse in them—only panic. “She was living in a shack with a leaking roof! That land was rotting away anyway! We were going to put her in a nice nursing home… eventually!”
