Slider, standing near the garage entrance, studied the photographs as they were taken. He did not touch the documents. His years in law enforcement had taught him that a chain of custody could be damaged by good intentions as easily as by carelessness. When the deputy asked Evelyn whether she recognized the purchases, she shook her head and named the few items Brenda had bought openly, none of which explained the luxury charges.
"I thought there might be an error," she said. "I kept telling myself there must be an explanation."
Morrison told her that investigators would compare the statements with bank records and purchase histories. A large suspicious total was not the same thing as a final audited loss, but the pattern warranted immediate investigation. Evelyn nodded and asked him to look at the car beneath a dusty cover. It was her old Honda Civic, unused for months, with the battery disconnected and the plates stored in a cardboard box beside it.
Brenda had told her the licensing office had suspended her driving privileges. Evelyn did not know whether the claim was true, only that Brenda had never shown her a notice and would not help her make inquiries. The deputy wrote down the account and photographed the vehicle. A single disabled car did not prove every intention Evelyn feared, but taken with the changed phone number, isolated contacts, and outside bedroom lock, it formed another piece of the pattern.
Back in the hallway, Bear noticed that Evelyn was breathing harder. He signaled the paramedic, who checked her again and urged that they complete the house visit soon. Evelyn agreed, though her eyes kept returning to the guest bedroom. She had been forbidden to enter it for months, and she believed Brenda kept additional records there.
Morrison explained that consent to examine shared parts of a home did not automatically resolve every privacy question about a room occupied by another person. Rather than risk the evidence, he arranged to secure the relevant area and request a warrant for a fuller search. Evelyn was frustrated but relieved that someone was finally being careful for her sake. She had spent months under rules designed to silence her; these rules were meant to make the truth more difficult to challenge.
At 3:51, a white Honda Accord turned onto Maple Street. Gunner, who had been watching from the porch, saw it first and stepped aside to inform the deputy. Brenda parked in the driveway carrying two shopping bags with department-store logos on their sides. She looked toward Bear's truck, then the patrol car, and stopped so abruptly that one of the bags slipped against her leg.
For an instant she did not move. Then her professional expression returned, and she walked up the path with an offended look already arranged on her face. She asked whether something had happened to Mrs. Prescott and why strangers were standing on her client's property. Morrison identified himself and asked her to remain outside while he spoke with her.
"I'm the primary caregiver," Brenda said. "If she's confused again, I can explain. She's been having episodes."