Chapter 7 - The Battering of the Mask
"Drop to the ground! Both of you, separate right now!" Officer Martinez, a veteran Brookfield patrolman whom I recognized from the library's summer reading kick-off, was the first through the door, his flashlight beam pinning Nora and me to the floor.
I immediately released Nora's legs, rolled onto my back, and threw both hands flat on the floorboards, palms up. "I'm the mother! I'm Claire! My daughter is under the dining table!"
Nora scrambled backward like a crab, clutching her bruised hip, her ash-blond hair falling in disarray around her wild, flushed face. "She attacked me! Officer, arrest her! She broke into my mother's house and attacked us!"
Behind them, Marlene stood frozen beside the roaring fireplace, the thick manila folder clutched against her chest like a shield. She took a single shuddering breath, and in an astonishing display of sociopathic agility, she transformed her face from a mask of murderous fury into one of helpless, weeping frailty.
"Officers, thank God you're here," Marlene sobbed, letting the folder drop onto the desk as she collapsed against the chair. "My daughter Claire... she had a psychotic breakdown. She began smashing things, threatening Nora... she threw her own child onto the floor..."
"Shut up, Marlene," Officer Martinez snapped. His voice held none of the deference she was accustomed to in Brookfield.
He didn't holster his weapon. He kept his eyes on Nora while the second officer, a younger female deputy named Vance, bypassed the parlor entirely and rushed into the dining room.
"Little girl? Lucy? Come here, honey, you're safe," Officer Vance's gentle voice drifted back from the dining room.
A second later, Lucy emerged, her green felt hood completely soaked with tears, her pale face streaked with blood from the deep scratch marks across her cheek. The moment she saw me lying on the floor, she tore away from the officer and threw herself onto my chest, burying her face into the crook of my neck.
"Mommy! Mommy!" she sobbed, her entire body convulsing in rhythmic spasms of grief.
"I've got you, baby," I whispered, wrapping my good arm around her, ignoring the throbbing ache in my collarbone. "I've got you. Nobody is ever going to touch you again."
"Officer, look at my cheek!" Nora protested loudly, standing up and pointing to a faint red mark near her ear. "She assaulted me! I am the victim here! My mother and I were holding a private family dinner, and she became violent!"
"Ma'am, sit down on that bench and keep your mouth shut," Officer Martinez barked.
He tapped his shoulder-mounted radio. "Dispatch, we have three adults secured, one juvenile victim with visible facial lacerations and contusions. Send the EMS unit up the drive. Code two."
Marlene straightened her back, her weeping act faltering when she realized the officers weren't consoling her. "Officer, I am Marlene Sterling. I demand to speak with Chief Henderson immediately. He is a personal friend. This is an internal family matter that has gotten out of hand, and I will not have my home invaded by patrolmen who don't know who they are speaking to."
Officer Martinez turned his flashlight squarely onto Marlene’s face. The harsh white beam caught the cold arrogance in her eyes.
"Chief Henderson isn't taking your calls, Mrs. Sterling," Martinez said coldly. "He was listening to the live patch from dispatch at his home. In fact, he’s the one who authorized the gate breach."
Marlene’s face went entirely gray. "What?"
"The 911 open line recorded thirteen minutes of continuous audio," Martinez said, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his utility belt. "Every word. Every threat. We heard the sister threaten to hold the child down all night. We heard you whisper that if she made a sound, she was next. And we heard the slap."
He turned to Nora, grabbing her wrist with practiced efficiency. "Nora Sterling, turn around and place your hands behind your back."
"Get your hands off me!" Nora screeched, trying to pull away. "You can't arrest me! I didn't do anything! It was a family argument!"
Officer Martinez twisted her arms behind her back with effortless leverage. The heavy steel ratchets of the handcuffs clicked shut with two loud, metallic snaps.
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"You are under arrest for risk of injury to a minor, third-degree assault, unlawful restraint, and felony extortion," Martinez recited in a monotone, reading her the Miranda rights as Nora began to scream obscenities that echoed out into the quiet autumn night.
***
