Chapter 7 - THE CONFRONTATION
Sarah slammed on the brakes, throwing us forward against our seatbelts.
The tall man in the tailored suit didn’t run toward us. He simply stood at the end of the driveway, resting the heavy metal crowbar against his shoulder. Three more men stepped out of the SUVs, blocking the street entirely.
“Reverse back into the garage,” my father ordered, his voice eerily calm.
“They’re blocking us in!” Sarah panicked, gripping the steering wheel.
“Do it, Sarah!” my father commanded. “Close the door before they get to the sensors!”
Sarah threw the car in drive and punched the gas. We lurched back into the garage just as I hit the remote button on the visor. The heavy wooden door ground shut, sealing us in darkness just seconds before the men reached the driveway.
“Get in the house,” my father said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Lock the deadbolts. Ellie, take the dog upstairs to my room.”
We scrambled out of the car and back into the kitchen.
Dennis was still on the floor in the dining room, weeping openly, staring at the ashes in the trash can. When he heard us lock the door, he looked up, his eyes wild with panic.
“They’re here,” Dennis gasped. “Oh God, they’re here.”
“Shut up,” I snapped, moving past him to lock the heavy oak front door. I slid the brass chain into place.
“They’re going to break the glass!” Dennis cried, crawling backward until his back hit the wall. “Give me the necklace, Marianne! If I give it back, maybe they’ll let me go!”
“You really think Nico Falcone forgives thieves?” my father asked, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed 911.
Outside, a heavy, rhythmic pounding began on the front door.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
It wasn’t a frantic knock. It was the sound of someone using a crowbar to test the strength of the wood.
“Police emergency,” the dispatcher’s voice echoed thinly from my father’s phone.
“This is Arthur Vance,” my father said clearly. “I am at 424 Elm Street. Four armed men are attempting to break into the house. They belong to Nico Falcone’s syndicate.”
The dispatcher’s tone immediately shifted from routine to urgent. “Units are being dispatched, sir. Secure yourselves in a safe room.”
My father hung up. He looked at me. “We hold them off for five minutes.”
CRASH.
The sound of shattering glass tore through the house. They hadn’t come through the front door. They had smashed the sliding glass doors in the living room.
Dennis screamed and scrambled under the dining room table, curling into a pathetic ball.
Three men stepped through the shattered glass into the living room, their dress shoes crunching on the shards. The tall man with the crowbar led them.
“Dennis,” the tall man called out, his voice smooth and professional. “Nico sends his regards.”
My father stepped into the threshold between the dining room and the living room, holding the heavy bronze candlestick like a baseball bat.
“The police are two minutes away,” my father said calmly. “You want to spend twenty years in federal prison for breaking and entering, or do you want to walk away?”
The tall man paused, looking at my father. He clearly hadn’t expected resistance from a seventy-year-old man.
“We just want Dennis, old man,” the enforcer said. “And what he stole. Hand him over, and we leave you in peace.”
Under the table, Dennis whimpered. “Tell them I don’t have it! Tell them Beth took it!”
Even now, he was trying to blame the woman he had used.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the heavy diamond necklace. It caught the dim light of the dining room chandelier, throwing fractured prisms across the walls.
The tall man’s eyes locked onto the diamonds.
“I have it,” I said, stepping up beside my father. “My husband hid it in my belongings. I am happy to return it to Mr. Falcone.”
The enforcer held out his hand. “Toss it over, lady.”
“Not yet,” I said, my heart pounding so hard I thought my ribs might crack. “You leave through that broken window, you get in your cars, and you drive away. I’ll leave the necklace on the patio table. If you take one step closer to my family, I throw this into the garbage disposal and turn it on.”
The enforcer chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “You’ve got nerve. But Nico wants Dennis, too. For the principal of the thing.”
Suddenly, the wail of police sirens pierced the night air. Not one, but half a dozen. They were closing in fast.
The enforcer cursed under his breath. He looked at the necklace in my hand, then at the pathetic man cowering under the table.
“Keep the coward,” the enforcer sneered. “Nico will find him eventually.”
He stepped backward through the broken glass, his men following him out into the night. I walked slowly to the edge of the shattered door and tossed the diamond necklace onto the patio stones.
The enforcer scooped it up, and they vanished into the darkness just as the red and blue flashing lights illuminated our street.
I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for ten years.
I turned around to look at Dennis. He was still under the table, sobbing in relief.
“They’re gone,” Dennis wept. “They’re gone. Thank God.”
I walked over to the table, looking down at the man I had married. The man who had forged my name, stolen my mother’s jewelry, planned to leave his daughter to the mob, and tried to throw away the dog that loved him.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the old photograph—the one of Dennis and Beth, eight years ago, looking at my mother’s ring.
May you like
I dropped it onto the floor right in front of his face.
“The police are at the door, Dennis,” I said quietly. “And my father has the forged deed. You aren’t running anywhere.”
