Chapter 3 - The Heat Wave Escalates
By noon, the temperature outside reached 102∘F (39∘C). Inside the house on Elm Street, it was unbearable.
Carol was lying on the velvet sofa, a damp dish towel draped over her forehead, whining continuously. “Michael... I can’t breathe. My knee is swelling. You need to turn the power back on.”
“I can’t turn it back on, Mom!” Michael yelled, standing in the hallway by the breaker box. “She took the main key tool to the central unit outdoor fuse box! And the utility company said the power line contract is registered under James Vance Trust. They won’t talk to me without Sarah’s authorization!”
Michael’s phone rang. This time, it wasn’t an automated alert. It was Daniel, Sarah’s attorney.
Michael answered instantly, his voice desperate. “Daniel! Listen to me! This is reckless endangerment! My mother is recovering from surgery! It’s over a hundred degrees in here!”
“Mr. Hale,” Daniel’s calm, gravelly voice cut through the phone like glass. “You and your mother have full freedom to check into a hotel or go to a public cooling center. However, as of noon today, my client has filed a formal motion in civil court for an immediate asset audit.”
“An audit for what?” Michael’s stomach sank.
“For the $48,000 you withdrew from the trust operating account over the last thirty-six months,” Daniel replied smoothly. “Withdrawals that were earmarked for property maintenance and tax reserves, but were instead transferred directly into your mother’s personal savings account to cover her credit card debts and elective medical procedures.”
Michael’s breath caught in his throat. He looked toward the living room where Carol sat, her face suddenly pale.
“I... I was going to pay that back,” Michael stammered.
“You have seventy hours left to clear your personal belongings from the house, Mr. Hale,” Daniel said flatly. “I suggest you start packing instead of making excuses. A moving crew monitored by off-duty officers will be present on Friday morning. Good day.”
The line went dead.
Michael turned slowly to look at his mother. “Mom... did you spend the tax reserve money?”
Carol swallowed hard, pulling the damp towel down from her face. “I... well, Michael, I needed my knee done! And the legal fees for my divorce three years ago... you said Sarah had plenty of money!”
“That wasn’t Sarah’s money, Mom! That was trust money!” Michael shouted, slamming his hand against the hallway wall. “If she presses criminal charges for embezzlement, I could lose my job! I could go to jail!”
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Carol sat up, her eyes narrowing. “She won’t do that. She’s too soft. She’s a nurse, Michael! She heals people! She’s just throwing a temper tantrum because I turned off her little air conditioner.”
“She turned off our life, Mom!” Michael screamed. “Look around! She’s not coming back!”
