Chapter 5 - THE LEATHER BRIEFCASE
Laura stepped away from the window, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped drum. “Lily, listen to me,” Laura whispered urgently in the dark. She grabbed the red ledger and shoved it deep into her heavy winter coat pocket. Then, she pulled a heavy wool blanket from the master bed and wrapped it around the trembling child. “I need you to climb under the bed. Push yourself all the way to the wall and do not make a sound, no matter what you hear. Understand?” Lily nodded, tears spilling down her pale cheeks. She scrambled under the heavy oak bedframe, disappearing into the shadows. Downstairs, the sound of heavy fists pounded against the front door. “Break it open,” Charles commanded. Laura didn't wait. She grabbed the heavy wooden nightstand and dragged it across the bedroom, shoving it hard against the closed bedroom door. It wouldn't stop them for long, but it would buy her seconds. She grabbed the cast-iron meat mallet she had dropped earlier and stood behind the barricade, her knuckles white. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the house as the front door gave way. Heavy boots pounded across the hardwood floor of the living room. “Check the kitchen! You two, upstairs!” Charles barked. Footsteps thundered up the staircase. The doorknob to the master bedroom rattled violently. “It’s blocked!” a deep voice yelled. A massive shoulder slammed into the door. The wood groaned, the nightstand sliding an inch across the carpet. “Charles, stop!” Laura screamed, her voice tearing through the chaos. “I’ve already called the police! They’re on their way!” It was a lie, but it made the pounding stop for a fraction of a second. “You didn't call anyone, Laura,” Charles’s voice sneered from the other side of the door. “The cell reception dies three miles down the mountain, and I cut the landline ten minutes ago.” He pounded his fist against the wood. “Move the furniture, Laura. I have full legal custody of that child. You are committing kidnapping across state lines. If you don't open this door right now, I will let these men tear it off the hinges, and I will make sure you spend the rest of your life in a federal penitentiary.” Laura gripped the mallet tighter. “You don't have custody, Charles! You blackmailed Sarah! I know everything!” A low, cruel laugh drifted under the door frame. “You know nothing. Break it down.” CRASH. The door buckled inward. The nightstand tipped over with a loud bang. Two massive men in dark jackets pushed their way into the room, sweeping the darkness with their heavy Maglite flashlights. The beam caught Laura standing in the center of the room. Charles walked in behind them. He looked entirely different from the man she had been married to for thirty years. The polished veneer was gone. In the harsh flashlight beam, his eyes were manic, frantic, and devoid of any human empathy. “Where is she?” Charles demanded, scanning the room. “You’re not taking her,” Laura said, raising the mallet. Charles sighed, shaking his head. He gestured to one of the men. “Restrain my wife.” The man stepped forward. Before Laura could swing, he grabbed her wrist, twisting it sharply. The mallet clattered to the floor. He shoved her hard against the wall, pinning her arms behind her back. Laura kicked and thrashed, but he was too strong. “Lily!” Charles called out, his voice taking on a sickeningly sweet, paternal tone. “Come out, sweetheart. Daddy’s here to take you home.” Silence from under the bed. Charles walked over to the closet. He saw the open leather briefcase. His face contorted in rage. He kicked the empty briefcase across the room. “Where are the documents?” he screamed, turning back to Laura. “Where is Arthur’s ledger?” “It’s gone,” Laura lied, spitting the words at him. “I already sent it to my attorney.” Charles marched across the room and grabbed Laura by the jaw, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks. “You stupid, arrogant woman. You have no idea the kind of people I owe money to. If I don't sign that trust over by Monday morning, they aren't just going to kill me. They’re going to kill Maya. They’re going to kill Sarah. They will slaughter this entire family. Give me the ledger!” Suddenly, the screech of tires echoed from the driveway outside. Charles froze. He let go of Laura’s face and walked to the window. “Who is that?” Charles demanded. One of the hired men looked out. “It’s a silver Mercedes, boss.” Charles’s face drained of color. A moment later, the sound of high heels clicking furiously against the hardwood floor drifted up the stairs. “Charles Bennett, you son of a bitch!” a woman’s voice shrieked from the hallway. Rebecca Hayes burst into the master bedroom, her burgundy gown torn at the hem, her perfect makeup smeared with tears and mascara. She was holding something heavy under her arm. Charles stared at his mistress in utter disbelief. “Rebecca? What the hell are you doing here?” “You left me at the restaurant!” Rebecca screamed, throwing her designer purse at his head. He ducked, the bag smashing a lamp on the dresser. “You took my car keys and left me with the bill! You told me we were getting married! You told me this house was ours!” “Get her out of here!” Charles yelled to his men. But Rebecca was faster. She stepped past the men and stood directly in front of Laura. She looked at the older woman, her eyes wild with a mixture of revenge and desperate clarity. “When he ran out of the restaurant,” Rebecca panted, looking at Laura, “he left his briefcase under the table. I took it. I opened his laptop.” Rebecca pulled a sleek, silver laptop from beneath her arm. She shoved it against Charles’s chest so hard he stumbled backward. “You lied to me,” Rebecca sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You’re completely bankrupt. But that’s not the worst part, is it Charles?” Rebecca turned to Laura. “He didn't just blackmail your sister into giving up custody,” Rebecca said, her voice trembling. “He forged your signature, Laura. In order to access the trust, he needed the consent of his legal spouse to prove a stable household. He signed your name on the parental surrender forms, and he submitted them to the judge yesterday.” Charles lunged for the laptop, but Rebecca ripped it away. “It’s all on the hard drive!” Rebecca shouted. “The emails, the forged documents, all of it!” “Shut up!” Charles roared, drawing back his hand to strike the younger woman. “Don't you touch her!” Laura screamed, twisting violently against the man holding her. Before Charles’s hand could connect with Rebecca’s face, a sudden, blinding light flooded the bedroom from the hallway. Someone had turned on a heavy-duty camping lantern. “Back away from her, Charles.” The voice was calm. Steady. And painfully familiar. Laura stopped breathing. Standing in the doorway, holding the lantern high, was a young woman in her thirties. She wore a heavy winter coat, and wrapped tightly around her neck was a bright blue silk scarf—the exact scarf Laura had knitted for her twenty years ago. Maya.
