Eli's birthday.
The lock on Lorraine's suitcase. The lock on Derek's phone. They had wrapped the entire plan in the one thing they swore they were protecting.
I sat at the kitchen table for a long time after that call.
Derek pleaded guilty in March.
He pleaded to forgery for his mother's mortgage, to tampering with records for the medical documents, and to felonious assault for the drugging. His lawyer argued that he was ill, that he had a gambling problem, that he had been desperate. The judge agreed that all of those things were true.
"But desperation," the judge said, "is a reason. It is not an excuse."
He was sentenced to three years in state prison and five years of probation, and ordered to pay restitution. The visitation order allowed Eli to see him only through a licensed counselor, and only when Eli asked.
Derek looked at me across the courtroom before they led him out. He looked thin and gray, and older than forty.
I didn't look away. I also didn't nod.
Lorraine pleaded to a lesser charge and testified against her son. She got probation, a mandatory counseling program, and two hundred hours of community service. The forged mortgage was voided by a judge, and she kept her condominium. She stopped going to Christ Community Church. Nobody asked her to. She simply couldn't walk through the doors.
Dr. Alan Voss surrendered his medical license within the month. The state medical board's report ran nine pages. Brent Sikora, the notary, lost his commission and was charged in a separate case.
I read every word of every filing. That's what I do. I follow the paper.
In April, a letter came in a plain white envelope. The return address was Lorraine's.
I let it sit on the kitchen counter for eleven days.
When I finally opened it, it was one page, in that careful, looping hand that had once filled a binder with lies.
Nora,
I am not writing to ask for forgiveness. I don't deserve it, and I know you couldn't give it if I did.
I told myself I was protecting my son. I told myself it was medicine. I told myself a hundred things, and I said them so many times that I forgot they were lies. It wasn't until I watched that video that I saw myself standing in your kitchen, and I did not recognize the woman.
I think about Eli's face at the dinner table when I gave him the stirring spoon. I will think about it until I die.
I only want you to know that I know what I did.
Lorraine
I read it twice. Then I put it in a drawer.