Knowing she had no way of proving anything, she tried to clear the thought from her mind. What difference does it make anyway. Her father had forbidden her from seeing her grandmother, telling her and her sister that she was not well. The word dementia had been brought up, and while Sarah didn’t know exactly what that entailed, she knew it wasn’t good.
Her thoughts came back to the present as she walked in the house after school. It was unusually quiet. Typically Jenny and her father would already be at the kitchen table tackling her homework together. She noticed a note on the fridge:
“Sarah, can you start dinner tonight - spaghetti. Took Jenny to the library to help her with her geography report. Mom will be home around 5:30. Should be back for dinner around six. Dad.”
Sarah groaned. She knew from past experience that 'start dinner' meant have it on the table by the time we get home. It was only four though, so she had a bit of time to herself. She couldn’t help thinking this might be the perfect time to do a little digging about her grandmother.
Her mind drifted to her father's office. It was forbidden territory, especially when he was not in there. She irrationally looked over her shoulder, knowing no one was home. She had no idea what she might be looking for, or where to begin, but she did know one thing. Being in here made her very nervous. Her hands were sweating as she crept slowly, afraid to risk any swift movements and possibly disturb something from its proper place.
In the middle of the room was her father's antique writing desk. She held her breath as she carefully slid open the front drawer, every creak making her neck sweat like it only did after a run. It proved to be of no help, containing only blank paper, pens and pencils. The left bank of drawers was just as useless, harboring only household files for bills, and large, dense looking chemistry books, presumably for his current research projects. She moved to the right hand drawers, cautiously glancing up as she did so. All she found was more stationery in the first two. She’d nearly given up hope when she tried the bottom drawer. It was locked. Sarah was disappointed but intrigued. She'd never noticed before that any of these drawers even had a lock, and she certainly couldn't remember ever seeing a key for one.