Chapter 2 - SILAS CALLS THE POLICE
Silas called 911.
He had every right to.
I had intentionally thrown a heavy wooden object at him.
By the time I reached my car, two patrol vehicles were entering the property.
I stopped.
Running would only turn one bad decision into several.
Josephine looked up.
“Are they taking us?”
“No.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Maybe.”
“Because Uncle Silas was mean?”
“Because I threw the horse.”
“But he was mean first.”
“Yes.”
I crouched.
“Someone being cruel doesn’t give me permission to hurt them after we could have left.”
She looked dissatisfied.
Children often prefer justice that fits inside one sentence.
Officer Leah Morgan separated everyone.
Silas had a laceration near his eyebrow, bruising at his cheek, and a sore shoulder.
No loss of consciousness.
No fracture suspected.
Paramedics recommended urgent care.
Clara demanded he go.
I gave my statement.
“Did Mr. Silas threaten you physically?”
“No.”
“Was he touching your daughter?”
“No.”
“Was he advancing toward you?”
“No.”
“You threw the horse because you were angry?”
“Yes.”
“Did you intend to hit him?”
“Yes.”
Officer Morgan wrote it down.
No heroic version.
No self-defense claim.
Then she asked about Josephine.
“What happened before the throw?”
I explained the gift.
The laughter.
The trash comment.
Officer Morgan looked through the glass toward the Christmas room.
“Cruel isn’t automatically criminal.”
“I know.”
“Your daughter physically harmed?”
“No.”
“Threatened?”
“No.”
“Then tonight’s criminal question about you is separate.”
“I understand.”
I hated understanding.
Police photographed the shattered horse because it was the object used in the assault.
That meant Robert could not simply throw it away.
Good.
I mentioned the piece he had kicked beneath the tree.
Officer Morgan found it.
A rectangular section from the base.
Inside was a recessed cavity.
Empty.
Robert said old handmade toys often had hollow sections.
Possible.
Then an evidence technician noticed a tiny brass plate screwed beneath the wood.
The letters were partly covered by marker:
E.C.W. ARCHIVE
A-001
Robert’s face changed again.
“What is E.C.W.?” Officer Morgan asked.
I knew.
Everwood Children’s Works.
My family’s company.
The business Robert spent my entire childhood describing as our legacy.
Why would an object Silas supposedly pulled from the trash carry an archive accession tag?
Robert answered:
“It must have been stored at the company years ago.”
“Then how did it end up here?”
“Old junk gets discarded.”
“Who discarded it?”
“I don’t know.”
Silas said nothing.
Clara looked toward Robert.
Helen suddenly became interested in collecting broken ornaments.
Police bagged the tagged fragment separately.
Not because it proved financial crime.
Because it was part of my assault evidence.
That accident preserved it.
At the hotel that night, Josephine would not open the small presents I had brought from home.
“What if they’re broken?”
“They’re not.”
“Can I see first?”
I opened the first box.
Watercolor pencils.
Second:
A small stuffed rabbit.
Third:
A children’s astronomy book.
Josephine touched the rabbit.
“You bought it?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Not Clara’s kids?”
“No.”
She hugged it.
Then asked:
“Why does Grandpa give them better things?”
I could have told her Robert rewarded obedience.
That Clara stayed in the company.
That I had left after Anna died.
That my father believed independence was betrayal.
Instead:
“Grandpa has been making unfair choices.”
“Does he not love me?”
“I think he loves you.”
“Then why?”
Because love does not automatically make an adult fair.
I was still deciding how to explain that when my phone rang.
Maya Lawson.
Former counsel to my grandfather Arthur’s estate.
“Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“I heard there was an incident.”
“Apparently everybody has.”
“Was the wooden horse damaged?”
I sat upright.
“How do you know which horse?”
A pause.
“Because Everwood’s first archive prototype disappeared three days ago.”
My eyes moved toward Josephine.
“The one Grandpa gave her?”
“Yes.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because tomorrow your father plans to ask you to sign documents saying your branch has no objection to a restructuring.”
“What restructuring?”
“Do not sign anything.”
“Maya.”
“Tomorrow morning. Eight-thirty. Bring counsel.”
“What is Robert trying to do?”
May you like
Her answer was quiet.
“Something he has spent fourteen years making sure you never understood well enough to stop.”
