Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
Night fell once more over the quiet, affluent cul-de-sac where the Sterling home stood.
Inside, the atmosphere was no longer victorious. It was hysterical.
"You're telling me they won't take your calls?!" Evelyn screamed, pacing across the kitchen floor, her manicure digging into her palms. "You played golf with the mayor last Sunday, Arthur! How can he refuse to talk to you?!"
Arthur sat at the head of the mahogany dining table, his face ashen, looking twenty years older. An empty bottle of bourbon sat in front of him. His hands were shaking visibly.
"The mayor's office told my attorney that if I call again, they’ll issue an order of protection," Arthur whispered, staring blankly at the wall. "Higgins won't answer. The district attorney won't take my calls. They're terrified, Evelyn. They think we’re radioactive."
"This is ridiculous!" Travis yelled, pacing like a caged beast. He was sweating profusely, his shirt unbuttoned, his face red with panic and alcohol. "I didn't do anything wrong! It was an accident! We just need to tell them the kid fell! If Mom and you testify that he slipped, they can't prove anything!"
"They have the video, Travis!" Arthur suddenly exploded, slamming his fist onto the table so hard the silverware jumped. "Clara had her damn phone recording the entire thing! It’s in high definition! They have your voice! They have Evelyn’s voice! They have me telling them to get the trash out!"
Evelyn stopped pacing, her eyes widening in horror. "She... she recorded me?"
"She recorded everything!" Arthur choked out, burying his face in his trembling hands. "The federal marshals have it. The Pentagon has it. Garrett has it."
"Garrett is overseas!" Travis shrieked, his voice cracking in sheer panic. "He can't touch me! He's just an army grunt! I’ll claim self-defense! I’ll say the kid attacked me with a fork!"
"Shut up, Travis!" Arthur roared. "Just shut your stupid, useless mouth! You ruined us! Thirty years of reputation, gone in thirty seconds because you couldn't keep your hands off a nine-year-old child!"
"Me?!" Travis screamed back, pointing an accusatory finger at his father. "You cheered me on! You told me he needed discipline! Mom told me to teach him a lesson! You both hated that Clara married Garrett instead of that country club lawyer you picked out for her! You wanted this!"
"Stop it! Both of you, stop it!" Evelyn shrieked, clutching her head. "We stick together! We deny everything! We are the Sterlings! Nobody treats us like criminals!"
At that exact moment, the streetlights outside the front windows flickered and died.
A low, deep vibration began to hum through the floorboards of the house—not an earthquake, but the heavy, synchronized thrum of high-output diesel engines moving in formation down the asphalt street.
Arthur slowly lifted his head.
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Through the sheer curtains of the large front bay window, sweeping twin beams of high-intensity xenon searchlights pierced through the darkness, washing over the manicured lawn and cutting through the living room like blazing suns.
***
