Chapter 19 - Allison Returns the Key
Two years after the yard, Allison asked one final time to see me.
I agreed.
Cedar Hollow porch.
Daylight.
Maya knew.
No fear.
Allison looked older.
So did I.
She handed me a small brass key.
“The original.”
“Utility cabinet?”
“Yes.”
“I thought police had it.”
“They returned it to me as property.”
“Why yours?”
“I bought replacement cabinet lock for office years ago. It was on my ring.”
I took it.
The key that started the end.
She said:
“I still don’t know why you trusted me enough to use it.”
“I didn’t.”
She blinked.
“I trusted the camera.”
Fair.
She laughed once.
Then stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Will you ever forgive me?”
I thought.
“Some of it.”
Her eyes filled.
“Not all.”
“No.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
I asked:
“Do you forgive yourself?”
She looked toward yard.
“Not really.”
“That’s not my job.”
“I know.”
Then I surprised myself.
“You should work on it.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because guilt that never changes behavior becomes another form of self-obsession.”
Dr. Greene would have been proud.
Allison smiled through tears.
“Still brutal.”
“Accurate.”
We sat for twenty minutes.
Then she left.
I put the key in drawer.
Did not frame it.
No shrine.
Objects do not need mythology.
That evening I reviewed camera system.
The old fence unit was nearing end of life.
Technician asked:
“Replace?”
I hesitated.
That red light had saved me.
Or seemed to.
But camera had not saved me.
Allison’s choice.
Maya watching.
Police.
Witnesses.
My own preparation.
All together.
Still, I replaced it.
New system.
Independent administrator account only I controlled.
Secondary access to Megan for emergencies.
No spouse.
No caregiver.
May you like
No single point of failure.
I had learned risk management the expensive way.
