The house was completely locked, and only I held the keys.

The landline phone rang again, its sharp bell cutting through the quiet.

I walked back to the hallway table and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” I said.

“Calla? It’s Detective Harris,” a voice said.

“Detective,” I said, sitting down on the hallway chair. “Has something happened?”

“We just finished booking Rylan Vance,” Harris said.

“He was arraigned an hour ago.”

“The judge set his bail at fifty thousand dollars, cash only.”

“He tried to call his mother, but apparently she couldn’t raise the funds.”

“Did she try to contact me?” I asked.

“She did,” Harris said. “She came to the station demanding we release him.”

“She claimed you were suffering from a mental breakdown and had fabricated the whole thing.”

“But we showed her the copies of the forged signatures and the bank statements.”

“She shut up pretty quick after that.”

“Where is she now?” I asked.

“She left the station in a taxi,” Harris said.

“My officers told her that if she enters your property again, she will be arrested for trespassing.”