Chapter 5 - The Wall Behind My Closet
The drive back toward Biloxi felt twice as long as the one that had taken me to the prison.
Every minute mattered.
Laura stayed on the phone.
I told her not to leave the bedroom.
Not for Kenneth.
Not for Raymond.
Not for anyone except the police.
“I’m calling 911,” I told her.
“Dad said everything’s fine.”
“I don’t care what your father said.”
Gerald was in the passenger seat.
Aaron followed in his truck.
“Are they yelling?” I asked.
“No.”
“Do you hear anything?”
“Banging.”
My grip tightened around the steering wheel.
“What kind of banging?”
“Like a hammer.”
Gerald closed his eyes.
They were inside the wall.
I called law enforcement and reported that two men were damaging property owned by my father-in-law while my children were inside the house.
The dispatcher asked whether they were armed.
I looked at Gerald.
“I don’t know.”
That was the worst answer.
Forty minutes later, red and blue lights appeared ahead of us.
I had never been so grateful to see them.
Two sheriff’s vehicles were parked outside.
Kenneth stood on the porch speaking with a deputy.
Raymond was nowhere in sight.
I jumped from the car.
Kenneth saw me.
His face tightened.
“What did you tell them?”
“My children are inside.”
“They’re fine.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Laura opened the front door before I reached it.
She ran straight into me.
Lucas followed.
He was twelve and trying desperately to pretend he wasn’t frightened.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about tonight.”
“That means something bad.”
He knew me too well.
I kissed his forehead.
“We’ll talk soon.”
Behind me, Gerald had stepped out of the car.
Laura saw him first.
“Grandpa?”
Gerald froze.
My children had not seen their grandfather since they were seven and six.
Laura ran to him.
He caught her so quickly his cloth bag fell again.
“Look at you,” he whispered.
She started crying.
Lucas approached more slowly.
Then Gerald opened one arm.
That was enough.
My son walked into it.
Kenneth watched his father embrace both grandchildren.
Something complicated moved across his face.
Regret.
Shame.
Maybe jealousy.
The deputy approached Gerald.
“Sir, is this your property?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Kenneth Crawford says he lives here with permission.”
“He does.”
“Did you give him permission to tear open an interior wall?”
“No.”
Kenneth interrupted.
“It was a repair.”
I laughed.
“At nine o’clock at night?”
“I found mold.”
“Interesting timing.”
The deputy looked between us.
“Where is Mr. Raymond Crawford?”
Kenneth hesitated.
“He left.”
“When?”
“A few minutes before you arrived.”
Aaron had gone inside without waiting.
I followed.
The bedroom looked like a tornado had hit it.
Clothes covered the floor.
The closet doors had been removed.
A large section of wall paneling had been ripped apart.
Gerald entered behind me.
He stopped.
“That’s the spot.”
I looked into the open cavity.
Empty.
Whatever had been hidden there was gone.
Aaron crouched beside the broken wood.
“He got it.”
Kenneth stood in the doorway.
“Got what?”
Aaron turned.
“You know exactly what.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why were you opening this wall?”
“I told you.”
“Mold?”
“Yes.”
Aaron laughed.
“You might want to come up with something less stupid before the police ask again.”
Kenneth’s eyes went toward Gerald.
“Dad, I didn’t take anything.”
“Where is Raymond?”
“I don’t know.”
Gerald walked toward him.
“You brought him here.”
“He said he wanted to talk.”
“And then you accidentally gave him a hammer?”
Kenneth’s face reddened.
“He said there might be documents in the wall.”
“How did he know?”
Silence.
Gerald nodded.
“You told him.”
“I didn’t know what they were!”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I thought he was trying to protect us.”
“Us?”
Gerald’s voice finally rose.
“Who is us, Kenneth?”
Everyone became quiet.
“You hid my release letter because I might embarrass you. You let your sister suggest putting me in a shed. You followed your wife five hundred kilometers. You brought the man who destroyed this family into my house.”
Kenneth looked down.
“And you still say you were protecting us?”
Laura was standing in the hallway.
I saw her too late.
She had heard everything.
“Grandpa owns the house?”
Kenneth turned.
“Laura, go upstairs.”
She ignored him.
“Mom said Grandpa owns it.”
“He does,” I said.
Her eyes moved toward Kenneth.
“Then why did Aunt Giselle say he had nowhere to live?”
Kenneth’s mouth tightened.
“You shouldn’t be listening.”
“You were going to put Grandpa in the shed?”
Lucas appeared behind her.
My heart sank.
The secret was breaking open faster than I could control it.
Kenneth walked toward them.
“It wasn’t like that.”
Laura stepped backward.
“You told us Grandpa chose not to come home.”
I looked at Kenneth.
That was new to me.
“What?”
Laura’s eyes filled.
“Dad said Grandpa didn’t write because he didn’t care about us anymore.”
Gerald looked as if someone had struck him.
“I wrote every month.”
Laura stared at him.
“What?”
“Every month.”
“For five years?”
“Yes.”
She turned toward her father.
“Where are the letters?”
Kenneth said nothing.
“Kenneth,” I whispered.
“They were confusing.”
“You threw them away?”
“I was trying to help the kids move on.”
Gerald lowered his head.
Laura began crying.
“You told us he forgot us.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did!”
Lucas pushed past his father.
“I hate you.”
“Lucas!”
My son ran downstairs.
Kenneth went after him.
I blocked the doorway.
“Not tonight.”
“That’s my son.”
“And you’ve done enough.”
His expression hardened.
“You’re turning them against me.”
“No.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“You did that yourself.”
The deputy returned.
“Mrs. Crawford?”
“Yes?”
“We found something outside.”
We followed him toward the chicken coop.
Behind the old storage shed Giselle wanted Gerald to sleep in, another deputy held a black leather folder.
My heart jumped.
“The ledger?”
Gerald took it.
Opened it.
Then shook his head.
“No.”
The folder contained copies of deeds.
Insurance policies.
Trust documents.
And a recent appraisal of Gerald’s property.
The house.
The farmland.
The grain storage acreage.
Total estimated value:
$6.8 million.
One document had been highlighted.
Gerald’s life insurance policy.
Beneficiary: Kenneth Crawford.
I slowly looked up.
Kenneth had followed us outside.
He stared at the policy.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Gerald turned another page.
A handwritten note was tucked inside.
Three words.
MAKE IT ACCIDENTAL.
No signature.
No explanation.
May you like
Gerald’s face lost all color.
And for the first time since I picked him up from prison, he looked truly afraid.
