Chapter 11 - What Teresa Meant
Police treated Teresa’s words seriously.
So did I.
Rachel warned me not to assume exactly what my mother meant.
But Amy and Frederick received round-the-clock security anyway.
Teresa was brought back into custody for questioning.
She insisted the sentence had been taken out of context.
According to her, she only meant Amy would leave me after losing access to my money.
I didn’t believe her.
The recording continued.
Gerald mentioned a man named Victor Lane.
Detective Hill found Victor within hours.
He worked for a private investigation company.
Teresa had paid him to follow Amy.
For six weeks.
When police interviewed him, Victor handed over photographs.
Amy at the grocery store.
Amy visiting her pediatrician.
Amy sitting alone in a coffee shop.
Amy walking through a park with Frederick.
Teresa had been watching my wife while telling me she was helping her.
Victor insisted he was only hired for surveillance.
Then he admitted Teresa had requested something else.
“She wanted pictures that made the mother look irresponsible.”
Hill told me.
“What does that mean?”
“She wanted photographs of Amy leaving the baby unattended.”
“That never happened.”
“I know.”
Hill replied.
“Victor said he couldn’t produce them.”
“So Teresa asked whether he could make ordinary photos look worse.”
My mother was manufacturing evidence.
Little by little.
Paper by paper.
Photograph by photograph.
It was the most disturbing part of the scheme.
Not because it was sophisticated.
Because it required patience.
For months, Teresa had hugged my son while preparing to take him from us.
Amy listened quietly when I told her.
Then she said something unexpected.
“I want to go home.”
I stared at her.
“Our house?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m tired of hiding because of what they did.”
She looked directly at me.
“That is Frederick’s home.”
“That is our home.”
“I want it back.”
Two days later, after police confirmed the property was secure, we returned.
The first thing Amy did was remove every decoration left from the birthday party.
I helped her.
We threw away the tablecloths.
The banners.
The plastic cups.
Everything.
Then Amy found something beneath the outdoor serving table.
A small envelope taped underneath.
It had her name written across the front.
AMY.
Inside was a handwritten note.
LEAVE CONNOR BEFORE HE LOSES EVERYTHING.
May you like
At the bottom was a date.
My thirty-fifth birthday.
