Chapter 2 - The Ambush
The heavy hospital door swung open, hitting the wall with a resounding thud that cut off Patricia Ferguson’s arrogant smirk.
The two military legal officers, impeccably dressed in their Class A uniforms, stepped into the room. Behind them was Detective Miller of the Charlotte Police Department, flanked by two uniformed officers and Dr. Evans, the attending physician.
The sudden influx of authority sucked the air right out of the room.
Nicholas took a step back, his polished smile faltering. Gregory shoved his hands into his expensive suit pockets, his posture stiffening. Patricia, however, refused to lose her composure. She crossed her arms, her diamonds catching the harsh fluorescent light.
"Detective Miller," Patricia said smoothly, using the tone of a woman used to giving orders. "I am personal friends with the police commissioner. There is no need for this theatrical display. This is a private family matter."
"Not anymore, Mrs. Ferguson," Detective Miller replied, his voice deadpan. He didn't look at her. He looked straight at Nicholas. "Nicholas Ferguson, turn around and place your hands behind your back."
"Excuse me?" Nicholas scoffed, taking another step backward. "You can't arrest me. She fell down the stairs! Ask her!" He pointed a shaking finger at Abigail, who was trembling violently against my uniform.
I gently pressed my hand against the back of my daughter’s head, shielding her eyes from the man who had broken her.
"Abigail didn't fall," Dr. Evans interjected, stepping forward with a medical chart. "The contusions on her arms are defensive grip marks. The laceration on her lip is from a blunt force impact, not a tumble. Furthermore, the tox-screen we ran upon admission showed high levels of forced sedatives. This wasn't an accident. This was a sustained assault."
Patricia’s face lost a fraction of its color. "That is absurd! My son is the vice president of a billion-dollar real estate firm. He doesn't need to—"
"Save it for the judge," Detective Miller snapped. He pulled a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. "Nicholas, if you make me ask twice, I will put you on this floor."
"Mom!" Nicholas panicked, his voice cracking as a uniformed officer grabbed his arm and spun him around. The sharp click-click of the handcuffs echoed like a gunshot.
"Don't say another word, Nicholas," Gregory hissed, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. He turned his venomous glare toward me. "You think this is a victory, Colonel? We have a team of the best defense attorneys in the state on retainer. He’ll be out on bail before midnight, and we will bury you in civil suits."
I looked at Gregory with the cold, absolute stillness I had perfected over twenty years of military service.
"You can try," I whispered quietly. "But you just brought a checkbook to a warzone. And I don't lose."
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I wrapped my military jacket around Abigail’s shivering shoulders, picked her up, and walked out of the room without looking back, leaving the Fergusons to watch their golden boy get dragged away in chains.
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