Chapter 3 - The Gathering at the PrecinctBy 10:30 PM, the rain had turned into a steady, pouring torrent.
Inside the Fourth Precinct intake office, Celeste and Tabitha sat on a wooden bench near the front counter. Tabitha had her arms crossed over her designer jacket, tapping her foot in irritation, while my mother nervously flipped through a regional gossip magazine she had grabbed from the waiting room table.
They thought they were here for a quick reprimand. They thought I had called the non-emergency line to throw a dramatic tantrum, and that a tired precinct desk officer would tell us to "work it out as a family."
Tabitha stood up the moment she saw me walk in through the double glass doors, flanked by Officer Torres and an imposing man in a charcoal pinstripe suit carrying a leather briefcase.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Anya!" Tabitha sneered, taking a step toward me. "Are you seriously dragging police into this?! I told you I forgot her! It was an honest mistake! Do you have any idea how much you're upsetting Peyton right now?!"
Peyton sat on the bench, holding a giant stuffed bear, wearing her new glittery boots, looking bored.
My mother stood up next, adjusting her gold necklace. "Anya, drop this ridiculous nonsense immediately. You're embarrassing this family. What will the neighbors say if they see a police car outside my house? Tabitha offered to buy Brynn an ice cream tomorrow to make up for it."
An ice cream.
I didn't say a word. I simply stood beside my uncle as he set his leather briefcase on the high granite counter of the precinct desk.
Arthur turned around slowly to face my mother and sister.
The moment Celeste’s eyes landed on Arthur Sterling’s face, every drop of color drained from her cheeks. Her hand flew to her throat, her lips parting in horror.
"A... Arthur?" Celeste whispered, stumbling back against the wooden bench. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Celeste," Arthur said coldly, pulling a stack of legal documents from his briefcase. "I'm here representing my niece, Anya, and my grand-niece, Brynn."
Tabitha scoffed, looking Arthur up and down. "Who is this old guy, Mom? Is he your lawyer, Anya? You can't afford a real lawyer on your pitiful insurance salary!"
"Tabitha, shut your mouth!" Celeste suddenly shrieked, her voice cracking with terror.
Tabitha blinked, stunned by her mother’s outburst. "Mom? What is wrong with you?"
"This 'old guy' happens to be senior partner at Vance & Sterling," Detective Vance announced, stepping out from the back office holding a clipboard. "And as of ten minutes ago, he has filed formal criminal charges on behalf of the State of Ohio against Tabitha Hayes for Child Endangerment, Unlawful Restraint, and Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress on a Minor."
Tabitha laughed nervously, looking around the room. "Criminal charges? Are you insane?! She's my niece! It was a mistake!"
"It wasn't a mistake, Tabitha," Detective Vance said, pressing a button on a small wall-mounted monitor. "We have high-definition audio and video from Nordstrom Security Camera 4B."
The video began to play.
The image of Tabitha dragging Brynn down the hall filled the screen. The audio picked up Tabitha’s sharp, cruel voice clearly:
"Sit in the dark and close your mouth, Brynn. If you open this door, the bad man will take you away. Peyton is the birthday girl today, not you."
Tabitha’s jaw dropped. Her face turned an unsightly shade of gray.
"And that's not all," Uncle Arthur added, stepping forward and laying a second document on the counter. "While Detective Vance was preparing the arrest warrant for child endangerment, my firm executed an emergency audit of the Hayes Family Trust established by my late brother, Thomas Vance, twelve years ago."
My heart stopped. I turned to look at my uncle. "Dad left a trust?"
Arthur looked at me with deep, compassionate eyes. "Your father left a six-hundred-thousand-dollar educational and real estate trust, Anya. Half was meant for you when you turned twenty-five, and the other half was meant for Brynn upon her birth."
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Arthur turned back to my mother, his eyes flashing with absolute, terrifying rage.
"Anya's trust was fraudulently converted eight years ago using a forged signature," Arthur stated, his voice echoing across the silent precinct. "And every single penny of that money was used to pay the mortgage on Tabitha’s five-bedroom house in Oakridge Estates."
