Chapter 5 - The Injunction
By Thursday afternoon, forty-eight hours after I walked out of the house, I was sitting in the clean, sterile quiet of Room 314 at the Grandview Hotel on the edge of the city.
My left arm was encased in a sleek, lightweight fiberglass cast from my knuckles to my mid-forearm, colored a deep, non-descript navy blue. Three butterfly sutures held my hairline together beneath a neat gauze pad. The pain in my hip had subsided into a dull, yellowish ache that only protested when I stood up too quickly.
On the desk beside my laptop sat my new phone.
It rang once. Mr. Prescott’s direct line.
"Renata," his voice was crisp, energized. "Richard has retained an attorney. Arthur Albright."
I smiled faintly into the receiver. "Arthur Albright? The man who handles the country club’s property tax appeals?"
"The very same," Mr. Prescott said, the rustle of papers coming through the line. "Albright just filed an emergency petition for an ex-parte injunction in the Court of Common Pleas. He’s throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks."
"What are the claims?"
"First, he alleges that you are suffering from acute psychiatric instability resulting from a recent domestic fall. He claims you took control of the real estate through undue influence in 2012 while Richard was under emotional duress from his business failure. Second, he has filed an emergency freeze order on the marital assets, alleging you embezzled funds from Evelyn Vance’s personal care accounts."
"And the third?" I asked, knowing Richard’s mind intimately.
"He went to the city police department this morning and filed a high-risk missing person report. He told Detective Miller that you suffered a severe traumatic brain injury on the stairs and that you are wandering the county in a state of confusion, potentially suicidal."
A cold, hard knot tightened in my stomach, but it didn't paralyze me. It was the same predictable, theatrical playbook Richard had used every time someone tried to hold him accountable.
He didn't want to find me because he loved me.
He wanted to find me because without my signature, he couldn't stop the auction of his life.
"Did you speak to Detective Miller?" I asked.
"Ten minutes ago," Mr. Prescott said with immense satisfaction. "I walked into the precinct myself. I provided the detective with your medical evaluation from St. Luke’s Hospital, signed by Dr. Harrison, confirming you are alert, oriented times four, and in full possession of your faculties. I also showed him the intake photographs of the head laceration and the fractured scaphoid, along with the preliminary statement regarding how those injuries were sustained."
"What did the detective say?"
"He closed the missing person file on the spot," Mr. Prescott replied. "And he opened a preliminary domestic incident investigation regarding Richard Vance. He asked if you wanted to press formal charges today."
I looked out the window at the rain tapping against the glass.
"Not yet," I said softly. "A criminal charge allows Richard to play the martyr. He’ll tell his friends at the club that his crazy wife is trying to ruin his life. I want him in civil court tomorrow morning. I want him under oath, explaining where his mother’s money went."
"The hearing before Judge Campbell is scheduled for nine-thirty AM," Mr. Prescott said. "Albright thinks he’s walking into an uncontested default hearing. He doesn't know you’re in town."
"I’ll be there at nine," I said.
While Mr. Prescott prepared the court filings, Cynthia Miller called on my secondary line.
"Renata?"
"Yes, Cynthia."
"We have two cash offers. Both arrived within four hours of the private listing hitting the commercial investor network."
I pulled a notepad toward me. "Give me the numbers."
"First offer is from a regional development fund: four hundred and ninety thousand, all cash, five-day close, waived inspection."
"And the second?"
"Five hundred and fifteen thousand," Cynthia said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "From a local physician looking to convert the property into a residential hospice. Full cash proof of funds verified by Chase Manhattan. He wants the keys by next Friday."
"Accept the second offer," I said without a second of hesitation. "Execute the purchase agreement electronically. Assign the title transfer to Mr. Prescott’s trust account."
"Renata," Cynthia paused, her professional facade cracking for a brief second. "You know the sheriff will have to serve the physical writ of possession if they refuse to leave by the closing date?"
"I know," I said.
May you like
"They won't go quietly."
"They don't have to go quietly, Cynthia," I replied, looking down at the dark blue cast on my wrist. "They just have to go."
