Chapter 6 - The Internet Turns
Within forty-five minutes of Marcus posting the raw, unedited footage from the foyer camera, the internet did what the internet does best: it devoured Ashley Vance alive.
The video clip began with Ashley screaming at ten-year-old Millie, forcing her to scrub Tyler's boots with freezing water while threatening to burn her dead father's gift, and ended with Denise smirking as the child shivered on the sub-freezing linoleum floor.
The turnaround was instantaneous and apocalyptic.
The very same Maplecrest Community Facebook page that had been calling for my arrest exploded into an inferno of rage directed squarely at Ashley and Denise:
* *Brenda M.: "DELETE MY PREVIOUS COMMENT! Oh my God, you absolute monsters! You abused that little girl! Someone call CPS and the police right now!"*
* *Mark T.: "I went to school with Ashley. She has always been a narcissistic bully. Look at that poor child’s hands! Disgusting!"*
* *Sarah L.: "Channel 5 News, you better run this video instead! These women belong in maximum security prison!"*
By noon, the video had crossed three million views across Facebook, TikTok, and Twitter. Local news outlets scrubbed the "Heartless Eviction" story and replaced it with a breaking investigative headline: *LOCAL BUSINESSWOMAN EXPOSES SICKENING CHILD NEGLECT AND EMBEZZLEMENT IN HIGH-END MAPLECREST HOME.*
Upstairs in the suite, Millie was sitting on the rug, drawing a picture of our family with a brand-new set of sixty-four colored pencils the hotel concierge had kindly brought up for her.
"Mommy?" she asked, looking up from her drawing. "Are the bad people gone?"
"They're gone, sweetie," I said, sitting beside her and watching her draw a bright yellow sun over a green house. "They're never coming back."
Before she could answer, my phone rang again. This time, it wasn't an unknown number. It was Tyler Pendleton.
I put the phone on speaker and tapped record on my laptop. "Tyler."
"Laura! Laura, please, man, you have to help me!" Tyler’s voice was cracked, frantic, and borderline weeping. "My dad saw the video! He saw the security footage! He just cut off my access to my trust fund! He called the bank and defaulted on my truck loan! The repo guys are outside my motel room right now!"
"Sounds like a personal problem, Tyler," I said coldly.
"Laura, I didn't know!" Tyler sobbed, his bravado completely shattered. "Ashley told me the kid was acting out! She told me the kid was being punished for stealing! I didn't know they were keeping her in the basement! I swear to God, Laura, I didn't know!"
"You watched her scrub your boots on Christmas morning, Tyler," I said, my voice dripping with pure disgust. "You sat there with your legs crossed, drinking my scotch, watching a ten-year-old girl freeze on an icy floor, and you laughed about it. You called her the 'seasonal intern.'"
"I was joking! It was a stupid joke! Laura, please, tell my dad you won't press charges on the garage tools! He said if I get an indictment, he's writing me out of the will permanently! I’ll give the tools back! I’ll bring your snowblower back! I’ll pay for the boots!"
"You won't have the chance, Tyler," I replied. "Because Detective Miller just texted me. An arrest warrant was signed thirty minutes ago for receiving stolen property and criminal child endangerment. You might want to answer the door. I don't think those are repo guys."
Through the receiver, I heard a loud, violent pounding on a hollow door: *POLICE! OPEN UP! WE HAVE A WARRANT!*
Tyler let out a high-pitched, pathetic shriek, and the line went dead.
I looked at Millie. She was looking at me with large, solemn eyes. "Was that Tyler?"
"Yes, baby," I said softly.
"Is he going to apologize?"
"He's going to face the consequences of what he did," I explained, running my hand through her soft hair. "Sometimes people think they can treat others like dirt because nobody is looking. But someone is always looking. And the truth always catches up."
Suddenly, a loud knock came at the suite door.
I stood up, signaling for Millie to stay on the carpet. I walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
Standing in the hallway, flanked by two hotel security guards, was Arthur Pendleton. He was wearing a heavy dark wool overcoat, holding a cashier's check in his leather-gloved hands.
I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
"Arthur," I said.
May you like
The distinguished older man bowed his head slightly, the shame in his eyes so thick you could almost choke on it. "Laura. May I have three minutes of your time? I promise I will not step foot across your threshold."
***
