Chapter 6 - The Turn of the Key
The metallic scrape of the key turning inside the lock felt like a gunshot in the silent room.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, slamming the laptop lid shut just as the door clicked open. Standing in the threshold, illuminated by the harsh overhead hallway light, was Brandon. His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and wide with manic panic, and his knuckles were scraped raw. He hadn't bothered to put on a shirt under his unbuttoned jacket, exposing the heavy sweat staining his chest.
"What are you doing awake?" Brandon rasped, his voice tight and uneven as his eyes darted frantically around the dark bedroom, finally landing on the heavy plastic briefcase sitting on the desk.
I didn't flinch. I kept my posture rigid, standing up slowly from the desk chair to place my body squarely between him and the evidence that could destroy him.
"I could ask you the same thing, Brandon," I said, my voice cutting through the heavy air with icy calm. "Though I suppose digging holes in the backyard at two in the morning tends to ruin a good night's sleep."
Brandon flinched, a flicker of raw terror crossing his face before he aggressively masked it with a furious sneer. He took a heavy step into the room, closing the door behind him and locking it with a sharp twist of his wrist.
"You went outside," he hissed, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register. "You saw Marcus."
"I saw Marcus dropping bearer bonds into a flowerbed, yes," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "And more importantly, Brandon, I listened to the audio file on his hard drive. The one where you and your partner discuss dumping our mother in a state-run facility across state lines once the bank seizes this house."
Brandon's face went completely bloodless. For a split second, he looked less like a calculated corporate thief and more like a cornered animal caught in the crosshairs. Then, a dark, desperate rage took over. He lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the desk and sweeping a stack of papers to the floor with a violent crash.
"You shouldn't have been poking around where you don't belong, Maya!" Brandon roared, his voice rising dangerously. "You think you're so smart because you spent six years playing nurse in some foreign hospital? You have no idea how deep this goes! If I go down for this, I'm taking everything you own, everyone you love, and every brick of this house with me!"
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Before he could lunge across the room toward me, the door directly behind him flew wide open with a violent thud, bouncing off the wall.
There stood Mom, wrapped in her worn cardigan, her face pale as paper, her eyes shining with unshed tears of pure, unadulterated heartbreak.
