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“Was your mother’s name Marilyn?” I asked as dusty light bulbs in my head began to go off.
Ivette lifted her chin. “You remember.”
“She was our housekeeper.”
All the Dixon’s looked at me . . . stunned.
“You fired her,” Ivette shrieked.
I put a hand to my mouth, trying to recall events from almost thirty years ago. “She was caught stealing.”
“It was just a little food,” Ivette said, voice growing progressively louder.
I tried to think. My mother might have disowned me, but she wasn’t completely heartless. If Marilyn had been only stealing food, she would’ve found a way to discreetly give the woman groceries. No . . . it was something—“She stole my mother’s necklace.”
“There was no proof,” Ivette said insistently, touching her neck.
“Marilyn was the only one who’d been in the room when it disappeared.”
“You never gave her a chance to explain,” she exploded and then composed herself. “So you all needed to learn a lesson.”
She set me up. Framed me for rape. For what? To punish my family for a perceived wrong?
I thrust Duke’s phone back at him. I’d seen enough. “You destroyed my life. Over a necklace.”
Ivette had that cool, collected way about her. “Hardly justice. We needed her income. She couldn’t get a job.”
“She shouldn’t have stolen,” I said.
“You still haven’t learned,” she replied darkly. “None of you have.”
That was where she was completely wrong. We’d all figured out that, with each other, we were better. Our family was the greatest thing we could ever have.
Duke grinned. “Ah, Doctor Stevenson. So glad you could make it.”
Another surprise? Why had my private investigator had a doctor come here?
The doctor nodded at Duke but focused on Ivette. “Ms. Hamilton, I’ve reviewed the file from the DHS complaint you recently pursued against your daughter and found some discrepancies in your story. Given your history of mental illness, we’re concerned for the child. I’m going to need you to come with me to discuss this.”
She looked down her nose at the man. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You’ll answer any and every question he has.” Officer Timothy Wilson stood behind the doctor, imposing and forbidding.
“You have my statement,” she said defiantly.
“And we’d like to further discuss it with you. It won’t take long,” the doctor said patiently.
Her eyes turned lethal when she glared at me “You did this.”
I shrugged. I wished I could take credit.
“This way, Ms. Hamilton.” The doctor motioned toward the building behind us.
She hiked her purse on her shoulder and for a moment, I thought she’d run. But Timothy Wilson was an intimidating figure. She stalked off with the two of them behind her.
“How do I do it?” Duke asked with a smirk.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I replied.
