“Iris!” Alice said.

He nodded. “Yeah, I guess. After the raid at his office, I broke into his home office to find the broker statements, go through and figure out which ones I needed to fix. But his computer was already gone. I don’t know what made me even look in the girl’s room, but jackpot!” He paused. “Even so, if the SEC has copies of those statements, they’ll figure it out. Probably, anyway. So that’s why we have to go.”

I wished I could text Oliver, but I didn’t have his number saved in my burner phone, and I didn’t have it memorized.

I was getting really uncomfortable from all this squatting, and I still had to pee, but I was so afraid if I made a sound, I would give myself away. Plus, I was furious at Alice. Just let my dad rot in jail? For something he didn’t do?

My heart was beating wildly because I had a recorded confession. This would save my dad. I knew it would. So now I had to figure out how to get out of here as quietly as possible. Before I could, the door beside Alice flew open. My mom appeared, screaming “Iris!” And all my worries about a discreet getaway suddenly disappeared. Mom had arrived. She would take it from here.

Charlotte Be My Guest

Call 911 is probably the worst text you could get from your child. It’s at least in the top ten. Poor Addie Walker, one of Juniper Shores’ most lauded matriarchs, was sitting across from me discussing which pieces of jewelry she had gifted to her children and therefore no longer needed to keep on her insurance policy, when Iris’s text dinged to my laptop.

I picked up the office phone and said, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Walker! We’re going to have to do this later,” while dialing 911.

When calling 911, one should know one’s emergency when asked. I did not. In fact, I didn’t even know the number that had texted me. But I wasn’t going to wait to find out if it was some sort of unfunny hoax. “I need police to Four Twenty-Seven Ocean Avenue right away. Hurry, please!”

And then I hung up and, grabbing my purse in one swift motion, threw my pumps to the floor and ran out the door as fast as my bare feet would carry me. I was so panicked I felt light-headed and, for sure, should not have been driving. I laid on my horn, ran a stoplight, and drove a solid twenty miles an hour over the speed limit the entire way home. I had to get to Iris.

A car I didn’t recognize pulled into the driveway right behind me, but I didn’t wait to see who it was. I ran up the stairs, threw open the door, and screamed, “Iris!”