Chapter 6
I have known Amanda and Jake wouldn't just slink away after last night's confrontation. They were like cornered animals now—desperate, dangerous, and willing to do anything to protect their lies.
At exactly 9 AM, my phone buzzed with a call from Officer Johnson at the Riverside County Police Department. He explained the "serious allegations" filed against me.
"Mrs. Crown, we've received a formal complaint alleging abuse of an incapacitated adult," Officer Johnson's voice was professionally distant. "We'll need to send a social services team and medical examiner to assess Mr. Crown's condition."
I gripped the phone. "Who filed this complaint?"
Officer Johnson responded, "A concerned citizen named Amanda Walsh, corroborated by firefighter Jake Morrison. Mr. Morrison claims he observed suspicious injuries during a routine safety inspection."
My laugh came out bitter and sharp. "Suspicious injuries? You mean the bruises I've been photographing and documenting? The ones that were there before I married Michael?"
Officer Johnson said, "Ma'am, we have to investigate all allegations seriously. The team will arrive this afternoon."
After hanging up, I raced to Michael's room. He lay there, perfectly still, but I could feel the tension radiating from his supposedly unconscious form.
"They're coming for you," I whispered, brushing his hair back. "I need to find everything now, before it's too late."
In his study, I frantically searched through filing cabinets until I found what I was looking for—a hidden safe behind a false panel. Michael's birthday didn't work. Neither did mine. Then I tried the date of the fire. The lock clicked open.
Inside was a treasure trove of evidence that made my hands shake.
The most damning piece was a recorded phone call between Amanda and her insurance broker, discussing how to maximize the payout from a "hypothetical fire scenario."
At 2 PM sharp, three black SUVs pulled up the driveway. Karen Williams from County Social Services stepped out first, followed by a medical examiner and two police officers.
Karen was a no-nonsense woman in her fifties with steel-gray hair and the demeanor of someone who'd seen too much human cruelty.
"Mrs. Crown," she said briskly, producing official documents. "We have a court order for immediate evaluation and possible protective custody of Michael Crown."
"Wait!" I rushed to meet them in the foyer, clutching a folder of evidence. "I have proof that the people who filed this complaint are the actual criminals! Amanda Walsh murdered three people in the mall fire eight years ago!"
Karen's expression didn't change. "Mrs. Crown, these are very serious accusations that need to be presented in a proper legal forum. Right now, our priority is ensuring Mr. Crown's immediate safety."
"But you don't understand—" I tried to show her the recordings, but she waved them away.
She said, "Any evidence you wish to present must be authenticated by the courts. Step aside, please."
They trooped upstairs toward Michael's room.
By 6 PM, the social services team was still documenting everything when I smelled smoke.
Racing to the study, I found Amanda hunched over Michael's desk with a lighter, burning documents as fast as she could grab them. The flames had caught some loose papers and were spreading to the wooden filing cabinet.
"Amanda, what the hell are you doing?" I screamed.
She spun around, her face twisted with rage and desperation. "Destroying the evidence that should have been burned years ago! Without these papers, it's just your word against mine—and who's going to believe a crazy ex-con?"
I shouted, "Michael is upstairs! You'll kill him!"
"Good!" she snarled, her mask finally dropping completely. "Let him burn with his precious evidence! Then there'll be no witnesses left!"
Smoke was pouring out of the study now, and I could hear shouts as the social services team discovered the fire.
Save Michael or save the evidence?
My choice was clear—I chose Michael.
Racing upstairs through thickening smoke, I found his room filling with gray haze. The medical examiner was trying to disconnect his monitoring equipment while Karen Williams barked orders into her radio for the fire department.
"Get out!" I yelled to them. "I'll get Michael!"
"Ma'am, you can't move him without proper—"
I shouted, "GET OUT!"
They evacuated as I struggled to transfer Michael from his bed. The man weighed at least 180 pounds of dead weight, and the smoke was making my eyes stream and my lungs burn.
"Come on, Michael," I gasped. "I know you can hear me. I need you to help me here."
That's when I felt it—the subtle shift in his body weight as he tried to help me maneuver around the doorframe. His supposedly limp arm tensed just enough to brace against the wall as we navigated the narrow hallway.
"You're helping me," I whispered in amazement. "You're really awake."
By the time we reached the front lawn, fire trucks were screaming up the driveway. Jake jumped off the first truck, his face a mask of fake concern.
"Thank God you're both safe!" he called out, but I caught the flicker of disappointment in his eyes when he saw we'd both made it out alive.
The paramedics immediately took over Michael's care, fitting him with an oxygen mask and checking his vitals. I stayed right beside the gurney, holding his hand as they worked.
"Vitals are stabilizing," one EMT reported. "But we need to get him to the hospital for smoke inhalation evaluation."
As they loaded him into the ambulance, I climbed in beside him.
As the ambulance pulled away from the burning house, I leaned close to Michael's ear. "The evidence is gone, but we're alive."
Under the oxygen mask, I saw his eyes flutter. Then, slowly, deliberately, they opened and focused on my face with crystal clarity.
The EMT nearly jumped out of his skin. "Holy shit! Did he just—"
Michael's hand gripped mine with surprising strength, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse but unmistakably clear: "Lisa... Amanda Walsh... she started the fire eight years ago... and she just tried to kill us both."
Michael's eyes never left mine as he squeezed my hand tighter. "I'm ready to testify."