Chapter 7 - Amy Was Supposed to Be the First Target
Amy read the paragraph twice.
Then she walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
I could hear nothing for several minutes.
When she returned, her eyes were red.
“They wanted Frederick.”
She said.
I hated that she was right.
Teresa’s plan depended on destroying Amy first.
If Amy looked unstable, controlling, or neglectful, Teresa could position herself as the protective grandmother.
Then if I was also declared incapable of managing my affairs, Teresa would stand between us and everything we owned.
I finally understood months of small incidents.
Teresa criticizing Amy’s parenting in front of relatives.
Teresa photographing messy rooms without showing that she had arrived minutes after breakfast.
Teresa asking whether Amy was “still depressed.”
Teresa repeatedly offering to take Frederick overnight.
She was creating a story.
And she had been collecting pieces for months.
Amy opened her phone and showed me old messages she had never deleted.
One from Teresa read:
CONNOR WORKS TOO HARD TO KNOW WHAT REALLY HAPPENS IN THAT HOUSE.
Another said:
ONE DAY PEOPLE WILL SEE WHAT KIND OF MOTHER YOU REALLY ARE.
My anger became strangely calm.
I forwarded everything to Rachel.
Then I called Detective Hill.
“Charge everyone you can.”
I said.
“Connor.”
He replied.
“We’re working on it.”
“I’m done protecting them.”
That evening, my uncle Raymond called.
He was Teresa’s younger brother.
We had not spoken in almost a year.
His voice shook.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Then tell me.”
“Your mother asked me to sign a statement about you.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
I stood.
“What did it say?”
“That you were acting irrationally.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
Relief lasted only a second.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought she was exaggerating.”
Raymond said.
“Then Betsy told me Amy was trying to take you away from the family.”
He paused.
“I didn’t know how serious this was.”
“Do you know who else signed?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I stopped breathing.
My father, Douglas Bradley, had divorced Teresa twelve years earlier.
He rarely spoke to her.
He also lived two hundred miles away.
“There’s no way.”
I said.
Raymond’s voice became quiet.
“She visited him in May.”
“She told him you were sick.”
“She said signing the paper would help protect Frederick.”
I immediately called my father.
No answer.
I called again.
Still nothing.
Then Raymond said the sentence that changed the direction of the entire case.
May you like
“Connor, your dad didn’t just sign a statement.”
“He gave Teresa something she had been trying to get for almost twenty years.”
