But one question still tortured me.
“Why did you lock her bedroom door?”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“I was scared she’d wander out of the house at night. The first time it happened, I found her two streets away. I thought keeping the door locked would protect her.”
One of the officers gently interrupted.
“Locking someone in a bedroom can be dangerous, especially during an emergency. She needs a safer care arrangement.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know. I made a mistake.”
He explained that the gloves I’d seen were for cleaning up after my mother had knocked over a glass and broken it.
And the envelope?
Daniel handed it to me.
Inside was a letter written in my mother’s familiar handwriting, dated several weeks earlier.
My dear Daniel,
Please don’t tell Margaret until I’m ready. I know something is happening to my memory. Yesterday, I forgot my own daughter’s birthday. I saw the hurt in her eyes, and I couldn’t bear it.
