Chapter 8 - The Paper Trail
Margaret stumbled backward, her hand flying to her reddened cheek, her eyes wide with shock. Her defense attorney stepped between us, shouting about assault and unlawful detention, but Detective Harris stepped in, placing a heavy hand on the attorney's shoulder.
"Shut your mouth, counselor, unless you want an obstruction of justice and accessory to attempted capital murder charge added to your docket tonight," Harris warned, his voice dangerously low.
I held up the brass canister right in front of Margaret's face. Her eyes dilated in absolute terror. The color drained from her skin, leaving her looking old, withered, and thoroughly hollow.
"He kept the ledger, Margaret," I said, my voice completely devoid of the warmth or deference I had shown her my entire life. "He kept the original bank records from Grandfather's trust. He kept the insurance documentation. He kept the blackmail letters Silas Vance used to extract twelve hundred dollars from you every single month."
"You ungrateful little brat," Margaret hissed, dropping all pretense of maternal piety. Her face twisted into a mask of pure venom, the true Margaret Carter finally exposing herself for the world to see. "I built this family! Your father was a weak, pathetic shop teacher who wanted to give all our inheritance away to charity! Madison was dying anyway! Why should that money have rotted in a medical trust when I could invest it? I did what had to be done to protect our future!"
"You put my father in a concrete hole for twelve years," I whispered, tears of righteous fury burning my eyes. "And last night, when Noah heard him through the floorboards, you let Silas hunt down your own six-year-old grandson."
"He was going to ruin everything!" she shrieked, struggling against the two female officers who stepped forward to grab her wrists. "One word from that boy and the police would have dug up the yard! I offered Silas five thousand dollars to take Noah to an orphanage in Mexico! I never told him to hurt the boy! I never told him to hit him!"
A collective gasp swept through the gathering crowd of neighbors. Walter Okafor stood on his porch, his face pale with horror, shaking his head in disgust.
Detective Harris clicked the steel handcuffs around Margaret Carter’s manicured wrists. "Margaret Carter, you are under arrest for attempted capital murder, kidnapping, aggravated unlawful restraint, insurance fraud, and tampering with evidence. You have the right to remain silent."
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As they forced her into the back of the squad car, she didn't look at the crowd. She didn't look at the sky. She glared at me through the rain-streaked rear window, screaming silent curses against the glass until the cruiser pulled away, its sirens wailing into the darkness.
Harris turned to me, his face exhausted but resolute. "We found the original insurance payout in an offshore account in the Caymans under a shell company. With Silas talking—and believe me, with that broken leg, he's already singing to save himself from lethal injection—neither of them will ever see the light of day again."
