Chapter 4 - The Insurance InspectionThe insurance inspection was scheduled in twelve days.
Kiara had never requested it.
Miriam checked the trust correspondence.
Loretta had.
That was the first major surprise.
The second was worse.
Loretta had represented herself as “family collection administrator.”
She was not.
The insurer had accepted the title because Loretta had been involved socially with the collection for years.
She requested updated replacement values on fifteen objects.
Nine were among the questionable or missing pieces.
Kiara stared at the email.
“What was she preparing to do?”
Miriam did not answer immediately.
The investigator from the insurer did.
“If someone had removed valuable objects and replaced them with replicas, an inspection would create risk.”
“Then why request one?”
“Possibly to update values before reporting a later loss.”
“A staged burglary?”
“That is one possibility.”
Kiara felt sick.
“Collect insurance on objects already sold?”
“If evidence supports that theory.”
There it was again.
Evidence.
Not instinct.
Not rage.
Evidence.
Police obtained security logs from the mansion.
Loretta had administrator privileges because Kiara had given them to her after Everett died.
Several overnight periods showed cameras manually disabled.
Garage doors opened anyway.
One date matched the week Malik saw the white van.
Another matched the disappearance of an eighteenth-century clock.
The mansion gate records contained vehicle plates.
The white van belonged to a storage and art-transport company.
Its client information required legal process.
Kiara sat with Detective Aaron Bell, who had been assigned after the potential property crime escalated.
“Do you think my mother sold my father’s collection?”
“I think there’s enough to investigate.”
“She lived with him for thirty-six years.”
“That doesn’t answer what happened after his death.”
Kiara looked toward the foyer.
Malik had refused to walk through it that morning.
He used the kitchen entrance instead.
That hurt more than the missing art.
Detective Bell noticed where she was looking.
“How is your son?”
“Quiet.”
“Was he quiet before?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
Kiara closed her eyes.
“Actually…”
She thought of the last year.
Malik suddenly asking permission for things he had never asked permission for before.
Malik apologizing if he left toys downstairs.
Loretta describing him as “wild” and “disrespectful.”
Kiara working late.
Loretta volunteering to help.
A terrible thought formed.
“The crate wasn’t the first time.”
Bell did not react dramatically.
“Has Malik said that?”
“No.”
“Then don’t interrogate him.”
“I’m his mother.”
“Exactly.”
Kiara looked at him.
“Let trained interviewers handle detailed questioning if needed. You can make it harder without meaning to.”
She hated that.
But she understood.
That evening she sat with Malik in his room.
No questions about Loretta.
No questions about boxes.
They built a model airplane.
After twenty minutes, Malik spoke.
“Is Grandma going to jail?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
Kiara put the plane down.
“No.”
“Because I broke the vase?”
“No.”
Malik looked skeptical.
“Then why?”
“Because she hurt you.”
He looked down.
“And because there are things in the house she may have taken.”
Malik was quiet.
Then:
“She said they were hers.”
“What things?”
He immediately stiffened.
Kiara remembered Bell’s warning.
“You don’t have to explain.”
Malik stared at the tiny airplane wing.
“Grandpa’s stuff.”
“Okay.”
“She said Grandpa would have wanted her to have it.”
Kiara’s pulse changed.
Her mother had said something similar after Everett’s funeral.
Your father never intended to leave me dependent on paperwork.
At the time, Kiara interpreted it as grief.
Maybe it had been resentment.
Malik continued without prompting.
“She said you stole the house from her.”
Kiara froze.
“What?”
“She said Grandpa loved you more.”
A child's sentence.
But the implications were enormous.
Loretta did not see herself as stealing.
She believed she was reclaiming something.
That made her more dangerous, not less.
Kiara kissed Malik’s forehead.
“You don’t need to carry any of this.”
He looked at her.
“Is the house yours?”
“The trust owns it.”
“What’s that?”
“A legal arrangement Grandpa made.”
“Is it Grandma’s?”
“No.”
Malik nodded.
Then whispered:
“She says it should be.”
Downstairs, Kiara’s phone rang.
Detective Bell.
The art-transport company had responded.
The white van had made six pickups from Briarwood in fourteen months.
All arranged by Loretta.
Destination:
A private storage facility rented by Julian Pike.
The police were seeking a warrant.
And one inventory note from the transport company described the first pickup:
Two antique ceramic vases.
The real pair had left Briarwood eleven months earlier.
May you like
Meaning Loretta had been living beside fake replacements for nearly a year—
waiting for everyone else to believe what they saw.
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