Chapter 2

"No signs of forced entry on the windows or locks. The place hasn't been tossed either," the officer noted after a quick walkthrough. "This looks like an inside job. Who has access to the house?"

"Just my daughter and me," my mom snapped quickly. "I went out for a bit around ten this morning. When I got back, the cash was gone."

I didn't argue. I told the officer I'd also been out earlier. He walked out to the front yard and scanned the perimeter of the house.

He paused, pointing toward the house across the street. "Who owns that security camera?"

A man stepped out from the crowd. It was Mike Law, a retired guy who lived alone.

His son worked in another city and had installed a high-end surveillance system all over the house so he could keep an eye on his dad.

Who would've thought that camera would actually come in handy.

"Wait! Never mind!" my mother suddenly shrieked. "I just remembered. I moved the money. I put it somewhere else and totally forgot. My mistake."

Just as the officer was contacting Mike's son, my mother lunged forward to stop him.

She was sweating bullets, her eyes darting around like a cornered animal.

I tilted my head and gave her a mocking little smile.

"Mom, thirty thousand dollars isn't exactly something you 'forget' in a sock drawer," I said. "You're not trying to call off the search because you're worried the police won't find it, are you? You have to trust the law."

She was staring daggers at me, but I just kept talking.

"Please," I said. "You have to check the footage. My mom has been telling everyone I'm a thief. She's probably just saying she 'found it' because she's terrified I'll end up in prison if you keep looking.

"But I know I'm innocent. Finding the person who actually on that tape is the only way to clear my name. I know you won't let a real criminal walk free."

The neighbors started chiming in again.

"She's right. Florence is a good kid. Having everyone think she's a crook is going to ruin her life."

"Her mom is just stressed out. You should definitely check the tapes, Officer. It'll give us all some peace of mind."

The cops weren't about to walk away empty-handed either.

A successful investigation meant another gold star on their record, and leaving now would just be a waste of precinct resources.

Ignoring my mother's frantic attempts to shut me down, I pulled out my phone and called Mike's son.

There was a loud thud. My mom collapsed to the floor.

She sobbed, "Please, I'm begging you. Don't investigate anymore. I can't stand the thought of my daughter carrying this kind of shame."

"It was me. I'm the one who took the money. Just drop the investigation, please, I'm begging you!"

The officer's face went stiff.

Seeing as she was the one who reported the theft in the first place, her sudden breakdown made the whole situation awkward. He couldn't exactly keep pushing without looking like a total bully.

I copied her exactly, sinking down the same way she had.

I said, "Mom, I didn't take the money. If you still don't believe me and don't want me to prove I'm innocent, I'll stay like this as long as it takes."

Two could play the emotional blackmail game.

Her expression turned dark. Her face flickered between a heated red and a pale, sickly white before she forced herself back into a mask of composure.

It took her a long minute to finally find her voice. "It... it wasn't Florence. I lost thirty thousand dollars playing the stock market.

"I was just so terrified she'd be pissed at me that I told everyone she took it."

The crowd went wild.

The neighbors were absolutely floored. Nobody had ever heard of a mother doing something that messed up: pinning a label like "thief" on her own flesh and blood. It was a new low, even for this neighborhood.

She kept up her sobbing act, wailing to anyone who would listen, but the tide had turned. Most people were already tuning her out.

Still, she got what she wanted. The police packed up and left without making an arrest.

The moment the last witness cleared out, she turned on me. Her face contorted with rage, and she lunged, her hand swinging toward my face in a sharp arc.

"You did that on purpose!" she shrieked. "I wasted the best years of my life raising you for nothing!"

I wasn't about to let her hit me. Not this time.

I reached out, caught her wrist in a vice grip, and shoved her back.

She hit the floor hard and stayed there, wailing like she was the one being abused.

"Your father died when you were only ten," she wailed. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to raise you alone? You'd actually lay hands on me over a little mistake? You're a cold-hearted, ungrateful brat!"

In my old life, I would have been begging for her forgiveness. But today, I didn't even give her a second glance. I walked straight to my room, threw on my noise-canceling headphones, and blasted my music.

She'd rather let her reputation rot than check the security footage, and I knew exactly why. The footage would have shown Wesley from next door.