Chapter 3 - The Knock at the Door
Merrick set his glass down with an irritated clatter, smoothing the lapels of his tailored blazer. “Stay right here, Varity. When I get back, you are apologizing to your sister and going straight to your room.”
He marched toward the foyer, his heavy dress shoes clicking sharply on the hardwood. My mother muttered under her breath about ‘uncivilized delivery drivers,’ while Tamson poured herself another glass of wine, refusing to look at me, her knuckles white around the stem.
I followed Merrick at a distance, standing in the arched doorway of the hall.
Merrick yanked the front door open, an arrogant reprimand already forming on his lips. “Do you have any idea what time it is? If you’re soliciting—”
The sentence died in his throat.
Standing on the porch were four uniformed police officers, flanked by two plainclothes detectives wearing dark suits and gold badges clipped to their belts. Behind them, illuminated by the flashing red and blue cruisers idling across our manicured lawn, stood our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Aloan, holding a clipboard and looking directly at my father with unblinking disdain.
“Mr. Merrick Vance?” the lead detective asked. He was a broad-shouldered man in his late forties with a square jaw and cold, intelligent eyes.
Merrick blinked, his polished veneer slipping for a split second before he recovered his booming, self-important tone. “Yes, I am Merrick Vance. What is the meaning of this circus outside my home? We are hosting a private dinner party.”
“I’m Detective Vance—no relation—with the Central Precinct Criminal Investigation Division,” the man said, showing his badge. “This is Detective Ortiz. We are executing a warrant for the arrest of Tamson Vance on charges of aggravated assault with severe bodily injury.”
From inside the dining room, a wine glass shattered.
Tamson appeared in the hallway, her face pale, the silk blouse suddenly looking ridiculous on her trembling frame. “What? Are you insane? Daddy, who are these people?”
My mother rushed up behind her, shrieking, “This is outrageous! You have the wrong house! My daughter is an established businesswoman! She doesn't associate with criminals!”
“She doesn't need to associate with them, ma'am; she is one,” Detective Vance stated flatly. He glanced past Merrick’s shoulder, his eyes locking onto me and the heavy fiberglass cast securing my right arm. “Miss Varity Vance?”
“Yes, Detective,” I said, stepping forward.
“Are you currently under medical care for a fractured radius and ulna sustained on Saturday morning?”
“I am. My cast was set at Mercy General Hospital.”
Merrick stepped between the detective and me, his voice dropping into a desperate, patronizing growl. “Officers, this is a family misunderstanding. My youngest daughter had an unfortunate slip in the garage. She’s high-strung, stressed about her bar exam, and prone to wild exaggerations. There was no crime committed here. Now please, leave my property before I call my attorney.”
“Your attorney is welcome to meet us downtown, Mr. Vance,” Detective Ortiz, a sharp-eyed woman with her hair pulled back in a severe bun, replied. “Because we aren't relying on anyone's word. We are in possession of forty-eight minutes of high-resolution, multi-angle surveillance video provided by Mrs. Clara Aloan’s residential security system.”
Merrick’s face turned the color of curdled milk. “That’s... that’s impossible. Clara gave me that drive three days ago! I have it right here!”
He reached into his pocket with frantic, shaking hands and yanked out the small silver USB stick, thrusting it in front of Detective Vance’s face like a religious talisman. “See? I have the only copy! There is no video! I checked it myself—it’s blank! She doesn't have anything!”
Detective Vance didn't even look at the USB drive. Instead, he gave Merrick a look of profound pity mixed with disgust.
“Mr. Vance,” Detective Vance said, his voice dropping an octave into chilling certainty, “did you just admit, in front of six sworn officers and your neighbor, that you received digital evidence of a felony, wiped it clean, and retained it to protect the perpetrator?”
Merrick froze. His arm remained extended in mid-air, the silver drive gleaming under the porch light. His jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.
“Because,” Detective Vance continued smoothly, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt, “Mrs. Aloan didn't give you the master file. Her system automatically syncs every recorded frame to an off-site cloud server hosted by an encrypted security firm. We’ve had the 4K footage since four o’clock this afternoon, courtesy of Chief Proctor Arthur Stellin. We’ve watched your elder daughter deliberately pin your younger daughter, kick her legs out, twist her arm until the crack was audible on the ambient microphone, and whisper: *‘Good luck writing your exam.’*”
A collective gasp rose from the dining room. Several guests had crept into the hall to watch the drama unfold. When they heard the detective’s words, two of Tamson’s closest ‘friends’ quietly slipped out the side patio door into the night.
“No!” Tamson screamed, her voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical shriek. “She made me do it! She was looking down on me! She was rubbing her stupid exam in my face! Daddy, do something! Don’t let them touch me!”
Detective Ortiz pushed past Merrick without breaking a sweat, walking straight toward Tamson. “Tamson Vance, you are under arrest for aggravated assault. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
“Daddy!” Tamson shrieked, backing away until her spine hit the hallway mirror. “Daddy, stop them!”
May you like
Merrick tried to lunge forward to block Ortiz, but Detective Vance stepped squarely into his path, his hand resting firmly on his utility belt. “Interfering with an arrest will add obstruction and felony evidence tampering to your own docket tonight, Merrick. Step back. Now.”
***
