The assault.
The forged mortgage.
The gambling debts.
The planted weapon.
The recording.
And Nolan’s threat to destroy my promotion if I refused to help portray my mother as mentally unstable.
I requested temporary leave.
My commanding officer listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he approved the leave.
I walked outside and called Detective Dalton.
“I have the motive,” I said.
“And I have a recording.”
There was silence on the line.
“A recording of what?”
“The attack.”
I looked toward the parking lot.
“And Nolan rehearsing his false 911 call afterward.”
Her voice changed immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Heading home.”
“Don’t confront him alone.”
“I understand.”
Detective Dalton and I agreed on what would happen next.
When I arrived at the townhouse, Nolan was sitting in the living room with a glass of scotch.
He looked at me and smiled.
“Have you finally come to your senses?”
I remained in the doorway.
“Did you sign the psychiatric hold?”
“No.”
His smile vanished.
