Chapter 6 - Panic in the Living Room
The panic inside 742 Willow Crest Lane was no longer a simmer; it was a full, violent boil.
Uncle Jerry turned on his heel without another word, ripped open the front door, and practically sprinted down the driveway toward his rusted sedan, leaving the front door wide open to the freezing wind.
"Jerry! Don't you leave us here!" Brooke shrieked from the porch, but the only answer was the screech of tires as her uncle sped away, desperate to save his own skin.
Kyle stood in the center of the foyer, looking at the open door, then at the staircase, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. "We need to pack. Right now. We need to grab whatever we can carry and get out of here before the cops show up."
"Pack what?!" Evelyn wailed, sinking into the chair, clutching her chest. "This is my home! My family lived in this town for forty years! I am not running away like a criminal!"
"Mom, you are a criminal!" Brooke yelled, turning on her mother with venom in her voice. The thin facade of family solidarity was completely shredded. "You’re the one who told us to change the locks! You’re the one who said Nora was too weak to fight back! You said she’d write us a check just to avoid the embarrassment of a public lawsuit!"
"You wanted her house, Brooke!" Evelyn spat back, her eyes flashing with desperate hatred. "You were the one crying that Kyle couldn't afford a mortgage! You were the one complaining about your tiny two-bedroom apartment while Nora lived in this mansion all by herself!"
"Both of you shut up!" Kyle bellowed, grabbing a laundry basket from the hall closet. "Start grabbing the silver! Grab her jewelry! Grab the electronics! If the accounts are frozen, we need cash for a lawyer!"
Through the camera feed on my tablet, I watched Kyle sprint up my stairs toward the master bedroom.
I checked the rearview mirror of my rental car.
Turning onto Willow Crest Lane from the main boulevard were three vehicles: two white-and-gold County Sheriff cruisers, followed closely by a heavy commercial van bearing the logo of an emergency locksmith and asset recovery service.
I put my car into gear, rolled slowly down the street, and pulled up to the curb directly behind the lead cruiser.
The morning was crisp, the sky an icy, unbroken blue. I stepped out of the car, smoothed the lapels of my tailored wool coat, and pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes.
From the front cruiser stepped Sergeant Miller, a broad-shouldered deputy with twenty years on the force, holding a clipboard with the court order clipped to the top. Behind him were two armed deputies and Marcus Vance, who had arrived in his own sedan.
"Miss Sterling?" Sergeant Miller asked, touching the brim of his hat.
"Good afternoon, Sergeant," I said calmly. "Thank you for being prompt."
"We have the emergency writ signed by Judge Vance," the sergeant said, glancing toward the front door of my house, which was still standing half-open. "The order authorizes immediate removal of all unauthorized occupants, using necessary force if access is denied. Are they inside?"
"They are," I replied, gesturing toward the second-floor window, where Kyle could be seen frantically stuffing designer clothing into a garbage bag. "And it appears they are currently engaged in grand larceny of personal property."
Sergeant Miller’s jaw set into a grim line. He turned to his two deputies.
"Vests on. Body cams rolling. Let’s execute the writ."
As the three officers marched up the brick walkway, the crunch of their heavy boots on the gravel sounded like the final countdown of a launch sequence. Marcus stepped beside me, his hands in his overcoat pockets, his expression neutral.
"How do you want to handle the charges, Nora?" Marcus asked quietly. "The judge gave us discretion to pursue immediate custodial arrest, or allow them to leave with only the clothes on their backs under threat of immediate indictment."
I looked at the porch light where Brooke’s note had hung sixteen hours ago.
May you like
Find somewhere else to stay.
"Let them think they're walking away," I said, my voice as steady as steel. "Then let the justice system crush them on paper. It's much cleaner that way."
