Page 46 of What Comes Around

“Yes.”

He glanced toward the window where Apple thrashed in the back seat.

“We’re taking her in for an emergency psychiatric evaluation. Based on what we saw and what you reported, she’ll likely be placed on a seventy-two-hour hold.”

“Is she… in trouble?”

“No,” he said. “This is medical. But situations like this don’t come out of nowhere. We see this pattern often. Emotional fixation. Paranoia. Public breakdowns. It escalates fast.”

I nodded like the words hurt.

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” he said. “You kept yourself safe. And you got her help.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He left. The car pulled away.

The café staff looked at me with sympathy. I offered to pay for the damage, but the owner waved me off.

“Just a few cups,” he said. “The table’s fine.”

When I finally slid into the back of my rideshare, a small smile tugged at my mouth.

Chapter 15: My Mother’s Boxes

The next morning, I called my father. He answered on the third ring.

“Ashley?”

I didn’t bother with small talk. “Is there anything else of my mother’s in storage?” I asked.

There was a pause.

“In storage?” he repeated carefully. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I need to know,” I said. “Is there anything of hers left there?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Some boxes I couldn’t bring myself to go through. Her winter coats. Photo albums. A few personal things. Why?”

My chest tightened. “Where is the key?”

“In my desk,” he said automatically. “Top drawer in my office.”

I closed my eyes. “It’s not there anymore.”

“What?” His voice sharpened.

“Apple took it,” I said flatly. “She called me last night. She said she stole the key and threatened to burn everything.”

Silence. Then he said, “That’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t…”

“Check,” I interrupted. “Please.”

I heard him stand up. Footsteps. A drawer opening. Another drawer. Papers shifting.