Chapter 3 - The First Lie
The rescue team reached us just before sunset.
I remember being strapped onto a stretcher.
I remember Aiden being lifted into a rescue basket.
And I remember asking the same question repeatedly.
“Is he breathing?”
Every time, someone reassured me.
“Yes, ma'am. Your grandson is breathing.”
But I didn't truly believe we were safe until I saw the doors of the emergency department close behind us.
At the hospital, doctors diagnosed me with a broken arm, a concussion, three cracked ribs, and severe dehydration.
Aiden had suffered a concussion, bruising, and a shoulder injury.
The doctors were cautiously optimistic.
He was alive.
That was all I needed to hear.
Then a nurse entered my room.
“Mrs. Collins, your son is here.”
My entire body went cold.
“Don't let him in.”
She paused.
“Ma'am?”
“Please. Don't let him near me or my grandson.”
The nurse studied my face and immediately called the supervising physician.
Within minutes, hospital security appeared.
Then a detective arrived.
Her name was Rebecca Torres.
She was in her early forties, calm, direct, and observant.
“Mrs. Collins, I'm Detective Torres. I'm told you're concerned about your son.”
I stared at her.
For years, Michael had been the person I trusted most after my husband died.
Now I could barely say his name.
“He left us there.”
Rebecca sat down.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
I explained the fall.
The voices.
The words about money.
The conversation about making sure Aiden wasn't found.
Rebecca did not interrupt.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Did you actually see your son push either of you?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone deliberately cause the trail to collapse?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Then we need to separate what you witnessed from what you suspect.”
I appreciated her honesty, even though it hurt.
Then she opened her notebook.
“Your son says you became confused on the trail, walked away with Aiden, and disappeared. His wife claims she tried to stop you.”
I stared at her.
“That isn't true.”
“He also says you've been experiencing memory problems since your husband's death.”
I felt physically sick.
Michael had been preparing people not to believe me.
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Mrs. Collins, I need you to listen carefully. Your son's account has inconsistencies. We're investigating them.”
“Where is he?”
“Downstairs.”
“Does he know we're alive?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“And Aiden?”
“He knows his son was rescued.”
I glanced toward the hallway.
“Will you protect him?”
“We're arranging that now.”
After Rebecca left, a nurse brought me my belongings.
Among them was a damaged leather wallet recovered near the trail.
Inside was a photograph of Robert and me on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
I held it against my chest.
Then I noticed something tucked behind the photograph.
A small folded document.
It was a copy of a letter from my attorney, dated three weeks earlier.
Across the top were the words:
NOTICE OF IRREGULAR WITHDRAWAL — COLLINS FAMILY TRUST.
My eyes widened.
The disputed amount was $1,840,000.
May you like
And the authorized representative listed beneath it was my son.
Michael Collins.
