Elizabeth’s lips were pinched together, and her cheeks grew red. “Listen here. I never wrote anything mean to Rosalee. My anonymous note was something about not going to bed angry at night and to always tell your spouse that you love them no matter what. I lost my husband and the night before it happened, I’d gone to bed angry at him. And when he went back for surgery, I didn’t even tell him I loved him or wished him goodbye…” The tough façade was fading now, Elizabeth’s shoulders shaking with grief.

“I never tried to hurt Rosalee,” she moaned. “Yes, I thought it was a bad idea, her and my son. I thought Georgia was more his type. But I was wrong about that … I’ve been wrong about so many things.”

“I believe you. I don’t think you wrote those notes,” Detective Smalls said, softening her expression. Elizabeth Beake was a tough cookie, but even the hardest cookies crumbled under pressure. There was more to this woman than met the eye. Behind the coldness and the harsh critiques was a sad, lonely woman. Detective Smalls hated that she recognized herself, albeit a much younger version, when she looked at Elizabeth Beake.

“There were text message exchanges between your daughter, Bri, and your son, Asher. They were angry at you. So angry that in one of those messages, your son said he could kill you for lying to him. What were they so angry about, Elizabeth?” the detective asked, switching gears.

Elizabeth released a deep sigh, slumping down in the chair.

“I didn’t think they would find out, but of course they did. Nothing gets past that daughter of mine. She’s still an emergency contact with release of information privileges on my medical records. I knew that, but I never expected that she was calling my primary care physician regularly, checking up on me and being nosy about my personal health,” Elizabeth said.

“What did your daughter find out that you didn’t want her to know?”

“My doctor told her about the cancer. So, of course she ran and told Asher too. They both want me to go through all the hoops and barrels—chemo and radiation. All that crap. But I told them, no way. And that’s what I told my doctor too. I don’t want to beat cancer. I’m ready to go and be with Edmund. If that makes my children angry, then so be it. It’s not the first time I’ve been on somebody’s bad side,” Elizabeth said, with a huff.

“Tell me, Elizabeth. Who else’s bad side were you on?”

“No one’s. Everyone’s! What do you want me to say here? I tend to rub people up the wrong way sometimes. I’m bold and outspoken. Sometimes I go too far…”