Chapter 4 - The Confrontation in the Dust
Dakota stood in the doorway of the garage, her designer trench coat looking wildly out of place against the rotting wood and rusted tools. Her face was twisted into a mask of cold, aristocratic disdain, her arms crossed over her chest.
“What do you think you’re doing, Callie?” Dakota asked, stepping into the dim space, her high heels sinking into the dirt floor. “This is private property now. We’ve sold the estate. You have no legal right to be here.”
“You sold her house, but you didn't sell her life, Dakota,” Callie said, her voice shaking with anger as she stood her ground, her hand still resting near the plaster statue on the table. “You dumped an eighty-two-year-old woman with advanced dementia on my porch like she was trash. You stole her home, her savings, everything she spent her life building!”
“We didn't steal anything,” Dakota laughed, a sharp, ugly sound that echoed off the metal shelves. “The house was in her name, yes, but Joel had a fully executed power of attorney. We used the proceeds from the sale to clear her outstanding debts. Do you have any idea how much her medical care cost us over the last two years? We’re practically broke because of her!”
“That’s a lie,” Callie said. “Geneva had a massive pension from the maritime union, and her healthcare was fully covered by her federal benefits. I looked through her medical folder. You didn't pay for a single thing.”
Dakota took a step closer, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the plaster statue of the Virgin Mary sitting on the workbench. A sudden, sharp realization flashed across her face.
“What’s that?” Dakota demanded, reaching out toward the statue. “What did you find in here? She told you something, didn't she? That crazy old bat actually remembered where she hid it.”
“She’s not crazy!” Callie shouted, stepping between Dakota and the workbench, her heart hammering wildly. “She is a human being who loved you, who trusted you, and you betrayed her!”
“She’s a husk, Callie,” Dakota hissed, her polite facade completely evaporating, revealing the ruthless, desperate woman underneath. “She’s been hiding the union’s contingency fund records for twenty years. Her old boss at the maritime union was skimmed millions before he died, and everyone knew Geneva was the one who managed the private ledger. That ledger is worth a fortune to the current board members. If you have that key, you give it to me right now.”
“I don’t have anything,” Callie lied, her fingers curling around the cold brass key in her pocket.
“Don’t play games with me, you pathetic little baker,” Dakota snarled, reaching into her leather bag and pulling out her phone. “If you don’t hand over whatever she told you to find, I will make sure the city health inspector shuts down your home kitchen by tomorrow morning. I’ll report you for operating an illegal commercial business in a residential zone. You’ll lose your apartment, your income, everything. And then who’s going to buy your precious grandmother’s diapers?”
The threat was low, vicious, and incredibly effective. Callie felt a wave of cold panic wash over her. If she lost her baking license, she wouldn't be able to support herself, let alone pay for Geneva’s care. She would be completely ruined.
But then she looked at the chipped, broken plaster statue of the Virgin Mary. She remembered her grandmother’s trembling voice, her terrified eyes, and the quiet dignity she had maintained despite the darkness of her mind.
“Don’t let them find it, Callie.”
“No,” Callie said, her voice dropping into a quiet, unshakable register.
“What did you say?” Dakota gasped, her eyes flashing with disbelief.
“I said no,” Callie repeated, stepping past Dakota toward the exit. “You’ve taken everything you could from her, Dakota. But you’re not taking this. Get out of my way.”
Dakota lunged forward, her nails clawing at Callie’s coat sleeve, trying to drag her back into the garage. But Callie was younger, fueled by a decade of repressed resentment and a sudden, fierce protectiveness. She twisted her arm free, pushing Dakota back against a stack of old tires, and ran out of the garage into the pouring rain.
May you like
She didn't stop running until she reached her sedan. She threw herself into the driver’s seat, locked the doors, and jammed the key into the ignition. As she pulled away from the curb, she saw Dakota standing in the middle of the street, her phone pressed to her ear, her face red with rage as she watched Callie escape.
The hunt was on.
