"It's too much evidence," Izzy said suddenly. "Too neat. Real criminals make mistakes, leave gaps. This is like someone's checking off a list titled 'How to Frame Tom Morrison.' I really like SBN for this. How hard could it be to set up an old man to take the fall for ruining Mountain Angel?"
Before Cory could respond, her phone rang. The caller ID made her stomach drop: Janet Morrison.
Her phone rang. The caller ID made her stomach drop: Janet Morrison.
"Izzy?" Janet's voice trembled with fear. "I'm scared. Tom's not himself. He keeps forgetting things, getting angry. What if... what if he really is involved in all this?"
"Janet—"
"I found receipts." The words tumbled out in a rush. "Storage units I didn't know about. Equipment purchases. Cash withdrawals. I don't understand what's happening."
Izzy met Cory's eyes. He nodded—keep her talking.
"What kind of equipment?" Izzy asked.
"I don't know. Technical things. Aviation things." Janet's voice broke on a sob. "Forty years of marriage, and I don't know who he is anymore. What if he's been lying to me? What if he's the one who's been hurting people?"
"Janet, where's Tom now?"
"In his study. Door locked. He does that lately—locks himself away for hours. I hear him talking to himself, but when I ask, he says he was on the phone. But Izzy... the phone never rings."
"We'll figure this out," Izzy said carefully. "Don't confront him. Just... be careful."
After she hung up, Cory shook his head. "She's been with him forty years. This has to be killing her."
"Pobrecita," Izzy said quietly. "What if Tom's sicker than anyone realizes? Some kind of dementia or breakdown?"
"It would explain the memory gaps, the confusion." Cory rubbed his temples. "The way he genuinely doesn't seem to remember things."
She bit her lip. "Watching the man she loves disappear piece by piece. No wonder she's been trying to protect him. Washing the jacket. Making excuses."
"She's standing by him even now." Cory's tone held deep admiration. "Most people would have walked away, but she's still fighting for him. Still hoping there's an explanation that doesn't make him a criminal."
"Forty years of marriage," Izzy said softly. "That kind of loyalty is rare."
They sat in silence, pieces of the puzzle scattered before them but the picture still unclear. Tom Morrison—confused, possibly ill, all evidence pointing to him. And his devoted wife, desperately trying to hold their life together even as it crumbled.
Outside, the December day was fading toward another cold night. Izzy's phone buzzed.
Martha: Insurance adjuster was just at my door. Claims won’t be honored until they’re certain there was no fraud. Says it could be years until we see a dime. Forty years gone.
Izzy's stomach dropped. She read the text aloud to Cory, her voice cracking on the last words.
She tried calling Martha back, but it went straight to voicemail. Her hands shook as she typed a response.
"Mountain Angel is everything to Martha," she said, tears threatening. "She built it from nothing. Trained half the mechanics in the valley. Saved hundreds of lives..."
"We'll find a way—" Cory started.
"How?" The word exploded out of her. "My accounts are frozen. The hangar's destroyed. Their aircraft, too. Insurance won't pay. The FBI wants me in prison. And now the one goodthing I was part of, the one way I could help people, is just... gone."
She stood abruptly, needing to move, to hit something, to do anything but sit here helplessly while her world burned. "Years of Martha's life. Bill's bad knees from all those rescue flights. All those volunteers who gave everything..."
Her phone buzzed again. This time, a text from Wilson.
Your girl made friends with a baby goat. Named it Princess Sparkle. She's happy. Mom still cooking up a storm. I need bigger pants. Sending you my clothing bill.
A sob escaped before she could stop it. "Mija." Chantal was making the best of hiding, being brave, while everything her mother had built turned to ash.
