Chapter 5
Michael's finger tapped against my palm. Once. Twice. Three deliberate taps.
My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at his peaceful face.
"You really are awake..." I whispered, barely containing my excitement. My voice trembled as eight years of isolation suddenly felt less heavy. I wasn't alone anymore.
His finger moved again, this time tracing letters on my palm. S-L-O-W-L-Y. The message was clear—we had to be careful.
I squeezed his hand gently, understanding. Amanda and Jake had already shown they'd kill to protect their secret. If they knew Michael was conscious, his life would be in immediate danger.
The next morning, I discovered just how far Amanda was willing to go to discredit me.
At Riverside's Main Street Coffee Shop, the town's gossip central, Amanda had orchestrated her performance perfectly. Through the large windows, I watched her sitting at the corner table surrounded by the usual crowd of townspeople, her voice carrying just the right note of concerned friend.
"I'm really worried about Lisa," Amanda said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "Last night when I went to check on her, I found her talking to Michael like he could respond. She was having full conversations with him, waiting for answers that never came."
Mrs. Patterson, the retired school teacher who'd taught half the town, leaned forward with horrified fascination. "Oh my goodness, eight years in prison really did break her mind, didn't it?"
Amanda nodded sadly, playing her role perfectly. "I think we need professional intervention. Michael is completely helpless—he can't defend himself if she becomes violent. Yesterday she seemed so angry, talking about revenge and justice. It was... disturbing."
My hands clenched into fists as I listened from across the street. Every word was calculated poison, designed to make the town see me as dangerous and unstable. Classic Amanda—destroy someone's credibility before they could expose the truth.
"Maybe we should contact social services," suggested Mr. Jenkins from the hardware store. "Do a mental health evaluation. That poor Crown family has suffered enough."
Amanda's eyes gleamed with fake tears. "I hate to say it, but I think that might be necessary. For everyone's safety."
That night, Amanda made her move.
I'd been expecting it. After her performance at the coffee shop, I knew she'd escalate. What I hadn't expected was how sloppy she'd be about it.
At 11 PM sharp, I heard the soft click of the back door. Moving silently through the darkened hallway, I positioned myself in the shadows of Michael's study, where I'd hidden a voice recorder earlier.
Amanda crept in with someone—a thin man I didn't recognize. They moved straight to Michael's desk, where she began frantically searching through the files I'd deliberately left out.
"Where is it?" she hissed. "The USB drive has to be here somewhere."
"Maybe he moved it before the accident," her accomplice whispered.
"It wasn't an accident," Amanda snapped, and my blood ran cold. "That sanctimonious bastard was getting too close to the truth. If that beam hadn't knocked him out, he would have ruined everything."
I stepped out of the shadows. "Looking for something, Amanda?"
She spun around, her face contorting with rage when she saw me. "Damn it, Lisa! You think you're so clever, don't you?"
"Just clever enough," I said calmly, making sure my phone was recording. "Amanda Walsh, breaking and entering is a felony. You're making this very easy for me."
Her composure shattered completely. "A felony? I'm already a murderer! I burned down that mall, killed three innocent people, and sent you to prison for eight years! What's one more crime?"
Perfect. Every word was being captured.
She continued, "You want to know the truth, Lisa? Your precious Michael was going to expose everything. He had security footage, insurance documents, proof that I planned the whole thing. So I made sure he'd never wake up to use them."
The admission hit me like a physical blow. Michael hadn't just been investigating—he'd been protecting me all along, and Amanda had tried to kill him for it.
Twenty minutes later, Jake's truck roared up the driveway. Amanda must have called him the moment she realized she'd been caught.
He burst through the front door in his official fire department uniform, playing his role as the concerned public servant.
"Mrs. Crown," he said with false authority, "we received reports about potential fire safety violations. I need to conduct an immediate inspection."
"Of course, Jake," I replied sweetly. "Do you have the proper inspection warrant? This is private property, after all."
His jaw tightened. "Lisa, your mental state has everyone worried. Amanda was just trying to check on you as a friend."
I pulled out my phone and played the recording. Amanda's voice filled the room, clear as day: "I'm already a murderer! I burned down that mall, killed three innocent people..."
Jake's face went white, but he recovered quickly. "This recording is meaningless. Audio can be faked these days. Besides, who's going to believe the word of a convicted arsonist over a successful businesswoman and a fire department captain?"
"A jury might find it interesting," I said.
Jake stepped closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "Lisa, you're clearly suffering from some kind of breakdown. Talking to vegetables, making wild accusations, breaking into people's homes to plant evidence. I think it's time we had you evaluated by mental health professionals."
I said, "Is that a threat, Captain Morrison?"
Jake replied, "It's a promise. Keep pushing this fantasy, and I'll have you committed. Then poor Michael will need real protection—from you."
As Jake and Amanda left together, I knew the stakes had just escalated dangerously. They weren't just trying to discredit me anymore—they were preparing to have me declared legally insane.