Chapter 4 - Priscilla Heard the One Thing Nolan Wasn’t Supposed to SayPriscilla recovered quickly.
"What exactly is going on?"
Arthur stood.
Nolan moved behind him.
The movement was automatic.
Arthur noticed.
So did Priscilla.
She looked hurt.
That performance might have worked yesterday.
Not tonight.
"Nolan and I are talking."
"About me?"
Arthur said nothing.
Priscilla folded her arms.
"Nolan, come here."
The boy didn't move.
Arthur's voice became quiet.
"He can stay where he is."
Priscilla stared at Arthur.
"I'm his guardian."
"And I'm his grandfather."
"That doesn't give you authority to undermine me."
Arthur felt anger rise.
He kept it contained.
"Nobody is discussing authority tonight."
"You clearly are."
She looked around Arthur toward Nolan.
"What did you tell him?"
Nolan's fingers tightened around the back of Arthur's jacket.
Arthur saw Priscilla see it.
Her expression sharpened.
That was enough.
Arthur moved toward the door.
"We'll talk downstairs."
"I'm not leaving him alone after he's been lying about me."
Nolan flinched.
Arthur turned back.
"Lying?"
Priscilla realized she'd gone too far.
"He's upset."
"That's different."
"He invents things when he's upset."
Arthur stared.
"What has he invented?"
Priscilla opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She didn't know what Arthur knew.
He could see her calculating.
"Arthur, I don't know what Bernice has been telling you—"
Interesting.
Arthur hadn't mentioned Bernice.
"Why Bernice?"
Priscilla froze.
"Because she's always hovering."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"I see."
Priscilla's voice hardened.
"You came home suddenly. You're asking about documents. Nolan is talking about some ridiculous blue folder."
"Is it ridiculous?"
"Of course."
"Then why do you know about it?"
Silence.
Arthur watched the color leave her face.
Nolan whispered behind him:
"She asks every week."
Priscilla snapped:
"Nolan."
Arthur stepped closer.
"Do not speak to him that way."
Priscilla looked stunned.
Arthur had never spoken to her like that.
Not once.
He continued.
"You and I are going downstairs."
"What if I refuse?"
Arthur almost smiled.
Not because anything was funny.
Because Priscilla still believed this was a domestic argument.
It wasn't anymore.
"Then you can explain that choice to the people waiting in the driveway."
Her face changed.
"What people?"
Arthur didn't answer.
A child-welfare investigator and a family-law attorney working with Lydia had arrived discreetly.
Arthur had also arranged for Nolan to stay with him pending legal advice and emergency court review.
Priscilla walked to the window.
Two unfamiliar cars sat beyond the front circle.
She turned.
"You called authorities?"
Arthur looked toward Nolan.
"Bernice?"
The household worker stepped into the hall.
"Take Nolan to the library."
Priscilla moved.
"No."
Arthur blocked her path.
"Arthur."
"Do not."
She stared.
Bernice held out her hand.
Nolan took it.
Priscilla's face became furious.
"You are making a terrible mistake."
Arthur watched Nolan leave.
"Maybe."
Then he looked back at her.
"But at least this one will be mine."
Downstairs, the conversation became formal.
No shouting.
No theatrical expulsion.
Priscilla was informed that concerns had been raised regarding Nolan's safety.
She immediately denied hurting him.
Arthur did not show the video first.
The investigator asked questions.
Priscilla described Nolan as emotionally unstable.
Defiant.
Manipulative.
She said he had been experiencing "episodes" since Wesley's death.
Then she produced something Arthur did not expect.
A folder.
Medical-looking documents.
"His therapist has documented it."
Arthur's jaw tightened.
"You brought his therapy records downstairs?"
"They're relevant."
The investigator reviewed them.
The documents appeared to be progress notes from Dr. Helen Abbott, the child psychologist who had seen Nolan for six months.
The notes described aggressive behavior.
Fabrication.
Attachment instability.
One sentence stunned Arthur.
Patient has demonstrated a recurring tendency to make exaggerated allegations against primary caregiver when limits are imposed.
Priscilla looked at Arthur.
"You see?"
Arthur didn't answer.
The investigator asked:
"Did Dr. Abbott provide these directly to you?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Several weeks ago."
Arthur's phone vibrated.
Lydia.
He stepped aside.
"Tell me."
"I have the court records."
"And?"
"Wesley's estate documents include a reference to a supplemental schedule."
Arthur's pulse changed.
"Blue?"
"I don't know."
"What's it called?"
"Schedule R."
"What does it do?"
"Not filed with the public probate copy."
Arthur frowned.
"Why?"
"Apparently it was held privately by independent counsel."
"Samuel Whitcomb?"
"Yes."
Arthur looked toward Priscilla.
"Can you reach him?"
"Already did."
"And?"
"He's coming."
Arthur felt something shift.
"Tonight?"
"He said immediately."
"Why?"
Lydia paused.
"Because when I told him Priscilla had sent you an asset consolidation agreement, he said one sentence."
Arthur waited.
"He said, 'Do not let Arthur sign anything until I get there.'"
Arthur looked through the doorway.
Priscilla sat with perfect posture explaining Nolan's supposed instability.
On the table beside her were therapy notes that could destroy a child's credibility before he ever told anyone what happened.
Arthur lowered his voice.
"Lydia."
"Yes?"
"Call Dr. Abbott."
"I already did."
"And?"
"Her office says she never wrote those notes."
Arthur closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not only financial paperwork.
Someone had created false medical records about Nolan.
"Does she know Priscilla?"
"Of course."
"No."
Arthur's voice became cold.
"Does she know anyone gave Priscilla documents under her name?"
"Not yet."
Arthur looked at Nolan's stepmother.
"What is Schedule R?"
"I don't know."
"Samuel apparently does."
"Then ask him."
"I intend to."
Arthur ended the call.
When he returned, Priscilla smiled.
"Perhaps now you understand."
Arthur sat across from her.
"I understand more every minute."
She didn't hear the warning.
The investigator continued.
Then Bernice appeared at the doorway.
"Mr. Hawthorne?"
Arthur looked up.
"Judge Whitcomb is here."
Priscilla's wineglass slipped slightly in her hand.
Only slightly.
But Arthur saw it.
May you like
Samuel Whitcomb entered moments later carrying a weathered blue leather folder.
And Priscilla stopped pretending she didn't know exactly what Nolan had been talking about.
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