CHAPTER 38: SECRETS

(OneRepublic)

I need another story

Something to get off my chest

My life gets kinda boring

Need something that I can confess

'Til all my sleeves are stained red

From all the truth that I've said

Come by it honestly I swear

Thought you saw me wink, no

I've been on the brink, so

Tell me what you want to hear

Something that will light those ears

Sick of all the insincere

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

This time don't need another perfect lie

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

I'm gonna give all my secrets away

My God, amazing how we got this far

It's like we're chasing all those stars

Who's driving shiny big black cars

And everyday I see the news

All the problems that we could solve

And when a situation rises

Just write it into an album

Send it straight to gold

But I don't really like my flow, no, so

Tell me what you want to hear

Something that will light those ears

Sick of all the insincere

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

This time, don't need another perfect lie

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

I'm gonna give all my secrets away

Oh, got no reason, got no shame

Got no family I can blame

Just don't let me disappear

I'ma tell you everything

So tell me what you want to hear

Something that will light those ears

Sick of all the insincere

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

This time, don't need another perfect lie

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

I'm gonna give all my secrets away

So tell me what you want to hear

Something that will light those ears

Sick of all the insincere

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

This time, don't need another perfect lie

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

I'm gonna give all my secrets away

All my secrets away, all my secrets away

Writer(s): Ryan Tedder  

Thirty minutes later…

DEB

I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find anyone. I finally arrive back at my house, and I can’t say that I’m especially happy to be here. Sure, Justin gave it back to me, and considering how everything else is falling apart lately, I probably should be grateful of this one constant. But where there was once life, this place now feels more like a mausoleum than the home I’ve worked most of my life to maintain. I keep trying to pinpoint the place where everything went so wrong.

I mean, if Brian is to be believed, our whole association and my expectations of him, were wrong. Okay, I suppose they were a little, since I basically told him that his sole purpose within our lives was to take care of Michael. Shaking my head, I still can’t believe I said that to him. But Brian should know me well enough to know that it was a knee-jerk response to not being obeyed. Those kind of comments never bothered or mattered to him before, so why such sensitivity to them now?

As for Justin, that kid has some nerve speaking to me as he did… but sadly, he also has a point. There were many days I witnessed Michael’s meanness towards him, which was instantly covered up by Michael’s joking laugh. Only it wasn’t funny, and I laughed with him only to hide my own discomfiture. I didn’t know about all the things Jen said to me about Justin’s struggles. Why didn’t someone tell me?!

I mean, I could have helped him or something, but no. Instead of doing what they ought to have done, I had to wait to find out like this! Well no matter, because by the time I’m through with them, they will understand that they all should have done as I asked and dropped the charges. Nobody gets to attack my Michael and comes away unscathed, and that definitely includes Jennifer. I have to contact Michael’s attorney and see what he can do with the information I give him about Brian, Justin, and his mother.

As I open the door, I am forced to push hard, though the first thing that assaults my nose is the smell. What the fuck has Michael been doing- or more accurately- not doing?! My house smells like a cross between sweaty gym socks and old food! As I step around the boxes near the door into the common area of the house, I want to vomit. There are containers of half-eaten food everywhere from the living room to the kitchen counter at the back of the house.

His funky laundry is splayed about on just about every surface, that is the ones not covered in garbage. I know my son has never been much of a housekeeper, but I fucking damned well taught him to clean up after himself! I notice the phone book laying open on the end of the couch, noting the advertisement and a credit card stuck in between the pages of it. My heart sinks as I realize the implication, with each flashing light of the machine. And I find myself praying just before I push play, hoping that the asshole hasn’t done the unthinkable by using the card.

“Mr. Novotny, this is Anita. I am calling to confirm the service for the Ultimate Cleaning package to be done on Monday morning at nine a.m. If you should have any further questions or concerns about what’s expected prior to our arrival, please call to let us know. Just as a reminder, although you may reschedule the service for a later time of your choosing, our fee is nonrefundable, nor is it negotiable once the advance payment has been processed. Thank you again for your business, and we look forward to seeing you on Monday at nine a.m. sharp.”

My stomach is in knots, as I realize what else Michael would have used that card for. How long has he had it? Does Brian even know it’s missing? How the fuck am I going to pay the bill, so that this isn’t yet another charge they will be able to add onto Michael’s impending sentence?! Vic’s words about Michael doing time keeps singing a fucking endless song within my mind, as I continue to look at and then through all of the boxes full of fucking toys!

I can’t stop the compulsion to compare the last four numbers on the little piece of plastic, to the invoices that accompanied the orders. I can’t hide my disappointment and shame that Michael has gone and done the most fucked up thing he's ever done; he committed identity theft and grand larceny. It just gives even more undeniable credence to the embezzlement charge that was the start of all this. I have to find out what else he’s hiding and there is only one way to do that. I grab my purse, shutting off all the lights again, to not only hide the mess from my sight, but to hide from my pain and shame that I’ve alienated everyone in favor of my thieving son.

Oh, I know they will all forgive me- they are just those type of people- but they will never forget what I’ve done.  

LE MONT RESTAURANT

LYNETTE

I look over to my mother, and I have to say that she is looking rather smug and pleased with herself.

“Everything alright?” Daddy leans over to ask her.

“Oh, everything is fine, Ronald. Just fine, indeed.” Her phone rings, at the same time an alert comes through to his phone.

As they excuse themselves from the table, I can’t help but wonder what’s going on. Each of them have a concentrated look upon their faces, both speaking rapidly into their phones. I hear the words ‘no, the lock wasn’t on’ from her and ‘the alarm to the safe has been triggered’ from him and all I can think was, Fucking Lindsay strikes again!

TED

My cell phone goes off with an email that I was not expecting to receive. And although I hate to bring it up right now, I know that I have to pull Brian over to the side. He’s conversing with Jennifer, Connor, Brett, and Justin, and I’m loath to interrupt him. I honestly haven’t seen him smile this much in, well… ever! I will admit that not many of us ever thought when he met Justin that they would last, or that the young man would have such a huge impact on Brian in so short of a time. I mean, if we were to take Michael and Lindsay’s interactions with Brian versus the amount of time Justin has been in our lives, there really wasn’t any critical evidence to suggests that they would be on the outs with Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor would have a firm and seemingly permanant place by his side.

I honestly almost fell over when Brian publicly declared that there would be no further separations between the two of them. I think you could have knocked Mel over with a feather, as well. The only one who didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the statement was Cynthia, and I can’t help but wonder again how close the two of them really are. Ah, maybe someday I will find out. But for now, I’m just happy to be Brian’s CFO and friend.

Maybe not his best friend, but considering the way his best friends have acted, perhaps that’s a good thing. Speaking of which…

“Brian, I hate to interrupt, but I really need to ask you something. It’s important.”

He looks at me closely for a moment. And I don’t know if it’s the earnest look in my eyes, or the fact that I’m near about to burst out of my skin at what I have to tell him, but he gets up immediately. After placing a brief kiss to Justin’s lips, he follows me a little to the left of where the Petersons are having their own conversations on their phones. Stopping by the bar, he orders another Beam, and a cranberry spritzer for me. How he knew that I wanted one I will never know, but I’m grateful for the momentary reprieve to pull my thoughts together.

“So Theodore, although I don’t mind sharing a drink with you, I know you didn’t interrupt my hand on Justin’s thigh for this. Is there a problem with one of the accounts?”

“No. I…”

“Any issue with the payment for Blake’s treatment?”

“Blake’s treatment? But Brian he’s out of rehab and he’s not sick… well is he?”

“No. Calm down, Ted. Look, I just thought you knew about it but obviously even though you pay my bills for me, you never bothered to really examine what was happening. I can appreciate that in a way, since your tendency to just pay, NOT question, is your way of maintaining my privacy. But to answer your question, I knew that Blake didn’t have insurance. So when he finally decided that he’d had enough, I put him in a facility in Arizona, then told him that he’d better get clean and not fuck up again.

"The program was a really good one and once he finished, he started attending college to get his counseling degree. When he was ready to come back, I paid for the move, and to have his transcripts sent over. If you brought me over here to chew me out about why I didn’t tell you, it’s quite simple. Number one, I thought you knew, and number two, he didn’t want you to know until he finished with his goals. He wanted you to be proud of him, although I’m not sure why the fuck that should matter. I swear you have all grown twats, but somehow I have developed this thing for troubled blonds and seem to want to help them at every turn. You can blame Justin for that.”

I smiled at Brian’s usual nonchalance about the things he does for other people. “I’ll be sure to thank Justin later, but that’s not why I brought you over here. I need you to check your wallet for the AmEx black card ending in 7029.”

“7029? Why? That card hasn’t reached its limit. Hell, it doesn’t even have a limit.”

“Exactly, but there have been some unusual charges on it ,and I just got the statement for it via email.”

“Wait! Why are you getting alerts for it through your email?”

I sighed. I knew it wasn’t that he distrusted me. But it’s just proof that sometimes Brian doesn’t listen during financial meetings, unless it actually concerns the numbers. That will certainly change after this conversation though. “I had the alerts to that card sent directly to me, specifically because it doesn’t have a limit. I always try to pay that card off by the end of the week when a statement is issued. It’s the one card you have that we never want to run behind on for two reasons. One, they are quick to send a late payment through to their collections department, instead of waiting the normal thirty days. And two, once we paid off the building and furniture, we decided not to use it for the rest of the month. Now please check to see if you have the card, and tell me if YOU used it?”

He pulled out his wallet, searching through the various credit cards neatly placed and alphabetized from Z to A. Why he does that just proves how anal he really is. But hey, whatever works for him. He hands me the card and I check the sequence numbers on it against the code on the email. Although it’s the right card, the sequence numbers at the bottom are not.

“Okay, so you’ve seen it. Mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

“In a minute. However, is there another card with the same number but different sequencing, in your possession?”

“Not mine, but Justin has the other card. As far as I know, he hasn’t used it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he left it in the loft, on the night of the Rage party. It’s how I knew that he… No, Ted, he hasn’t used the card. He fucking gave me a fit just for getting it for him. Justin is funny that way when it comes to money.”

“Well someone used it, and has charged twelve grand on it in the beginning of the billing cycle. The last charge just came through, although it was backdated to a week ago.”

“Hold on. Let me confirm with Justin that he hasn’t used the card. Is it possible to get an itemized billing attachment through the phone?”

“I’ll go directly to the website. It should make it easier to track who the payments went out to.” And I do just that when he goes to get Justin. But as I look through the account register, my heart sinks. Instantly, I know exactly who has been charging Brian’s life away with the fucking card.

“Brian said there is a problem with the black card?” Justin says as he comes up, with Brian’s hand on his back.

“Not if you used it, there isn’t,” I answer him, hoping against hope that he tells me he did.

“No, I haven’t. Wait, Brian, isn’t that the card we argued about where I didn’t speak to you for a week, unless you asked me a question directly? After we finally called a truce to the silent treatment, you demanded that I carry it around just in case of an emergency, and I did just to shut you up.”

“That’s the one,” Brian says, wryly. “It’s how I knew when you left for good, even though you didn’t leave your key. I knew would never use the key unless you and I had come to an agreement, but the card was my only way of really making sure you were alright and had the things you needed if you were in a bind. I was pissed at you for leaving it behind.”

“I didn’t want it to seem like I was taking advantage of you. Your financial stability, as opposed to my own, was always the first thing Michael threw in my face. Keeping the card, to me, would have meant that he was right,” Justin tells him.

Once again, I can see how they worked things out between them when none of us was around to bear witness. The level of bone-deep trust is more than apparent to me, especially now. “Brian, where did you put the card after you found it?” I ask.

“In our toy box in the drawer on the platform bed, along with Justin’s nipple ring.”

“My nipple ring? The hoop? I’ve been looking for that one!”

“It’s always been my favorite. I remember the night you got it, and then the night you took it off to change it for the one you’re wearing now. We had such fun with me…”

“Alright you two, focus!” Jesus’ crackers, these two have the attention span of a gnat when it comes to sex, and their escapades! I do not need to get a hard-on listening to them right now. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I glance at my phone again to get me back to the task at hand. “Right. So I have to ask, who else knew about the toy box?”

“Boxes, and the answer is every trick I’d ever used a toy with, along with a years supply of condoms. Although, I did keep mine and Justin’s personal stash in a separate compartment. The drawer has a false bottom, but what does that matter?”

“Take a look at this list, both of you, and then you tell me.” I hand them my phone.

As their eyes begin to travel down the list, I can tell when their own realizations begin to take root. The growl emitting from Brian, and the narrowing of Justin’s eyes has me ready to run for cover. I waved my hand to signal for Mel to join us, which she does. After quietly explaining the situation, and what Brian and Justin are looking at, she explodes into action herself.

Brian is the first one to speak after the shock wears off. “That little fucking thieving bastard! It wasn’t enough that he stole from Justin, and was drawing off of his account at will. But now the fucker has been using a stolen credit card, with my name on it, to fund his addiction, and his fucking life?!”

My response is halted by Melanie. “Ted, can you screenshot the email and the account registry, then email them to me immediately? Annette said for me to forward them to her now. Since everything is going to be time-stamped, it will be considered evidence and added to Michael’s growing list of charges. He’s officially going to be charged with breaking and entering, identity theft, and possession of stolen property, as well as everything else.”

“How is that possible?" Brian asks. "He can just say that I gave him the card.”

“No, he can’t. And even if he could, the card lists Justin Taylor as an authorized user, not Michael Novotny, which is to whom all of the merchandise was shipped. It’s why I asked about the sequence numbers. He would have had to provide them for a purchase to be made online, or over the phone. In person, it is automatically run. It wasn’t your identity that he was trying to steal or in fact, stole; it was Justin’s. Justin couldn’t have made the purchases when he didn’t have the card. Furthermore, he wasn’t in town on some of the specific dates when the card was used, and that can be proven since he was in either New York, Chicago, or California. I have a feeling that AmEx’s policy is going to change immediately with this latest episode in the ‘Michael’s a greedy fuckup’ show.” I tell them.

“It’s a good thing you guys made your statements this afternoon, instead of waiting. Annette already had a judge sign off on Lindsay’s arrest warrant, after something else was brought to her attention this afternoon. She didn't tell me what it was, but you said there is a listing for a storage garage payment on there?”

“Yes. There’s one for Everston Moving and Storage. Apparently, Justin has been paying for a storage unit there, which is in the care of Michael Novotny. There is also a charge for another unit on there, but the way it’s registered… well, I’ll just show you,” I tell her, as I hand her the phone.

“Are you fucking kidding me? They really didn’t do that, did they?”

“What? I missed something?” Brian asks.

“It’s not something you would have wanted to see, but yeah. The other storage locker is registered under Justin Taylor for Mrs. Brian A. Kinney and Mister Michael Charles Novotny-Kinney.”

“So by including me in their schemes, they tried to implicate me and make me complicit in their crimes? Basically they are trying to make it so that if they got caught, it would look like an agreement gone bad and I was just being a vindictive, spoiled brat by pressing charges. Have I got that right?” Justin asks through gritted teeth. I don’t think I have ever seen him so controlled and angry, not even when dealing with the nutty professor earlier today. “Well since both units are in MY name, I want them entered tonight… No, not tonight. NOW! I’m going to go order dinner.”

Justin walked away, a rigid set to his shoulders. I can’t help but to admire the way he carries himself. It’s like watching Brian when he’s all controlled fury, his steps panther-like, as if it wouldn’t take but one wrong move before he pounced. To see it in action is both terrifying, and exhilarating to behold, all at once. I couldn’t stop the sudden shiver that raced down my spine.

Brian cleared his throat and adjusted himself quietly. “You heard the man. Make it so,” he said and followed behind Justin. Oh to be a fly on the wall when they got home tonight!

I cleared my throat, while turning back to Mel. She was still on the phone with the DA. “Yes, I’ll tell them. Right now, we’re at Le Mont Restaurant. Oh, is that so? Well she’s sure to be in for a surprise, and a very rude awakening. I’ll let them know.” She hung up, smiling.

“Good news?”

“The best. Michael and Lindsay’s stunt in the saga of World’s Dumbest Criminals is about to finally pay off. She thought she was so fucking smart, but I have to hand it to the Petersons and WASP justice. It seems our little wannabe Queen Bee, struck out one too many times. They’re on the way to the Peterson’s house to arrest her. But first, Annette is calling Joy Everston to get a copy of the contracts that one or both of them must have signed while using Justin’s name, as well as their new adopted names. I couldn’t have planned her downfall better myself, even if I wanted to.”

“'Fucked without lube' doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I said as we began to move back towards the table in Brian and Justin’s wake.

“You’ve been hanging out with Brian too long that you can think of a highly inappropriate sexual euphemism to describe Lindsay’s latest predicament.” She chuckled. "I’m impressed!”

PETERSON RESIDENCE

LINDSAY

I’m still so fucking pissed that I can barely see straight! To be thrown out of Le Mont, without Clarence even bothering to check on me, was one thing. But to be bodily removed to my car, while the ingrates I used to consider family and friends, stood there hugged up, smiling and waving at me… that shit is not to be borne! I swear if it’s the last thing I do, I will make them all pay for such disrespect!

At first I went to Gardner’s house, looking for a little sympathy, and maybe some sex to get my head on straight. What I found was him curled around some young red-head, fucking her within a nth of her life, while he sucked on her ample tits. I was angry, but more than that, I was jealous that I couldn’t join in. No… instead I had to watch while his ex-wife, Maura, did! I couldn’t help but become horny to the point of physical pain, as I saw Maura sit on the little bitch’s face as she and Gardner played between the woman’s spread legs.

It should have been me, but with the idea of self-preservation in the forefront of my mind, I left. However I did remember to tell the butler, Giles, to make sure to let Gardner know I came by. The disapproving look on his face, while I was playing Peeping Thomasine, told me that Gardner probably wouldn’t receive my message. But if Maura had anything to do with it, I could expect a visit sooner rather than later. Well that is if Mrs. Regina Davis-Moore was to be believed.

So I went home, determined to get out my now-overused suit and to have a relaxing bath, while planning my next move. But when I went to open the door, my key wouldn’t turn in the lock. I thought maybe I had the wrong key, so I tried ALL of them, and still nothing. So I decided to bite the bullet and call the bitch with the iron fist. Originally she wasn’t picking up her cell phone, so I decided to call the restaurant directly instead. By then, I was ready to break every fucking window on the house just to get in, but knew that any time they left the house the alarm was on. It wouldn’t have done to end up in either a cell next to Whiny Wimp Wonder, or on the other side where I would be sharing with Big Bertha or Smelly Susan or whoever-the-fuck. For whatever reason, it’s taking Nancy eons to get to the goddamn phone. And I’m just about officially out of patience!

Finally she comes on, “Lindsay, dear, is that you?”

“No Mother, it’s the fucking Pope. Care to tell me why my key to the house doesn’t work?”

“Temper, dear. I mean, after all you are calling me to get into MY house. You wouldn’t want to forget that fact, now would you?”

God, I HATE HER!! I can’t wait for Clarence to marry me, so I can take the bitch down a peg or two. I’ll certainly make sure the first snub is that she isn’t invited to the wedding of the year. Gritting my teeth, I answer as calmly as I can muster. “No Mother. I apologize for my tone. It’s been a very trying day, and this evening…”

“Oh, I know, dear. Well, onto the reason for your call. Your father and I decided that with us not being home, there wasn’t a reason for you to be there either. So we had the locks changed to prevent that from happening.”

“What do you mean you’ve had the locks changed?! Mother…”

“Again, Lindsay. It’s all about ownership, which in your case, you own nothing in terms of the house. Hell, you don’t really even own any property within there, after your last temper tantrum.”

“What about my clothes? I own those!”

“Do you? Because I remember when I went shopping for you out of the kindness of my heart and you basically threw my gifts to you back in my face. So no, technically you don’t own those either. Now you are welcome to stay and wait for us to get back…”

“And when will that be?”

“Monday morning. Your father decided to surprise me with a weekend trip to Monte Carlo, so we’re all packed and ready to leave for the airport from here. But anyway, as I’ve said, you’re welcome to wait for us to get back, or you’ll have to find somewhere else to lay your head.”

I can feel the metaphorical steam coming out of my ears. “Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

“To hell if you don’t pray?” She sighs deeply. “Look, Lindsay, you are a grown woman, so it’s up to you to figure out your own sleeping arrangements for the next several days.”

“Fine, but can I have some money for a hotel? Surely, you don’t expect me to sleep in the car.”

“Well, I’ll see if I can unlock the house for you from my phone. The upgraded alarm system works remotely, so that we can control everything on the go now. But right now, I have to go. It’s simply not polite for us to keep our hosts waiting, but of course, you understand that. Have a good weekend, Lindsay.”

She hangs up without confirming that the door is unlocked and I am relieved when I hear it click open. As soon as I open the door, I head to the office where I know that Daddy usually keeps his emergency stash of cash. I enter the code on the safe, remembering the day I accidently found out what it was, and grab two stacks. As I’m about to close the safe, I could swear I hear other footfalls within the house. But that’s ridiculous, since Mother just unlocked the door.

I close the safe and pass by the lounge. The ever present watchdogs, that are usually surrounding Justin’s Rage paintings, are noticeably absent. I guess, since they figured they had changed the locks and weren’t going to be home, security was no longer needed. Looking upon them, I am still filled with envy. But more than that… I am filled with hatred!

How dare Justin succeed in a show where he wasn’t even fucking present?! How dare he sell a painting for 150K without even having to fucking schmooze one person?!

Even working at Bloom, I never sold a painting worth that much! Well, one way to have my fucking revenge is to make sure that Nancy and Ron see these five as wasted investments. A million dollars will be nothing compared to the amount of pain destroying them will cause Justin, though. And that’s what will make up for all the traumas of this day that have been caused by the little bastard. After all, none of this would be happening to me if it wasn't for him!

I walk over to the writing desk in the corner, searching through the drawers until I find the letter opener I’m looking for lying right on top of it, alongside a small piece of flexible plastic I have to disregard for the moment. I hold the long stiletto-like object in my hand, testing and relishing in its weight. It’s perfect, for not only slashing the fucking banes of my existence, but to take them out of their custom made frames and stomp on them, making them even more worthless. By the time I’m through, there won’t be one fucking way to salvage them at all! Arriving back in front of the paintings, I start on the one that bothers me the most- the one of Brian and Justin fucking in the middle of everything else.

Starting at the center of the painting, I slash the letter opener viciously downward and to the left. I laugh as I see that the lower half of Justin’s body is separated from the rest of the painting. Stopping to take a look at my handiwork thus far, I decide that his fucking right hand is the next thing to go. Carefully applying the knife, I make sure to leave the back of Brian’s head alone, as I continue to sever Justin’s hand from around him…

“Drop the weapon, and put your hands behind you head!” I hear coming from behind me, but I don’t stop. I’m almost done. “Ma’am, I’m not going to say it again!”

“Just hold your fucking horses; I’m almost done!” I shout back, determined to finish what I started.

I feel hands pulling at me to get me away from the painting. But I fight them off as long as I can! When the person yanks me around, my hand connects with the side of their head, and I am momentarily freed. Quickly picking up my fallen instrument of destruction, I race back to finish what I’ve started. Justin will NOT win; he will NOT keep triumphing over me!

As the lights are suddenly flicked on, I'm momentarily blinded. I shake my head to clear my vision, before looking again at the painting. I realize there is something a bit… off about them, and I stand there studying them, before I feel my arms being yanked behind me. It’s then that I notice the change… his fucking signature is missing! They are goddamn replicas!

“Lindsay Peterson, you are under arrest for the unlawful entry of two residences; grand larceny; vandalism; destruction of private property; invasion of privacy; aiding and abetting; obstruction of justice; accessory to burglary; four counts of extortion; blackmail; conspiracy to commit murder; conspiracy to defraud; attempt to defraud; statutory rape; resisting arrest; accessory to assault, and assaulting a police officer. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

“Unlawful entry? What the hell are you talking about?!” I ask, screaming at him and struggling against the hands still holding me hostage.

“The loft of Brian Kinney on 6 Tremont Street and this residence, which is the home of Nancy and Ronald Peterson.”

“But that’s ridiculous! I've had keys to Brian’s residence for YEARS. And as for this one, I live here! Well for the moment, anyway.”

“Not according to Nancy Peterson, whom we just spoke to. She said that she told you they would be away for the weekend, but something has come up and…”

“But… but she unlocked the front door electronically for me! I heard the click!” I watch as they bag the money I had just taken from the safe in my father’s office, along with the letter opener. The credit card I'd stolen was still lying neatly on top of the desk, where I’d found the letter opener. Or at least it was until it went into another envelope marked 'Evidence.'

OH FUCK! I’ve been set up!

“No, she didn’t. Our records show that the door was locked all afternoon, and the silent alarm was activated. The system updated a little while ago, which is probably what you claim to have heard, Ms. Peterson. It rechecks all the doors, and windows to make sure the air pressure within the house has stayed the same while the alarm is on. Now again, you have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you…”

They led me out of the house as all the neighbors stood by watching… and fucking smiling.