My stepmother called just as the day was folding into evening, her voice dripping with a satisfaction so sharp I could almost see the smile stretching across her face. She told me, with deliberate precision, that I would never set foot in the family beach house again—that every lock had already been changed.

Evelyn gave him a look almost gentle in its disappointment. “That, officer, is an excellent question.”

The locksmith cleared his throat. “Uh, for what it’s worth, I was told by the woman on the porch that her husband owned the property outright and that there was a concern about a disgruntled relative trying to get in. I would not have changed the locks if I’d known ownership was disputed.”

Diana whirled on him. “You do not need to say anything.”

He lifted both hands. “I’m saying what happened.”

Madeline, who I hadn’t seen at first, pushed open the side gate and emerged from around the back of the house wearing oversized sunglasses and a matching cream tracksuit like she’d dressed for a resort brunch instead of a family ambush. She froze when she saw Evelyn, then me, then the officers holding legal papers. Her mouth tightened.

“Mom?” she said.

Diana ignored her.

The younger officer looked between all of us. “Ma’am, if these documents are valid, then having the locks changed without the owner’s authorization could create a problem.”