Chapter 5 - The Fall of the House of Whitlock
By 10:00 p.m., the Tudor mansion in Newport was surrounded by the quiet, flashing blue lights of two state trooper vehicles.
Vanessa was led down the stone steps in handcuffs, her camel-hair coat draped over her shoulders, her head bowed to avoid the camera of a local news van that had been tipped off by Graham’s media relations contact. Her husband, Arthur, stood in the driveway, his cell phone clutched to his ear, his voice rising in a panicked, useless argument with his firm's senior partner.
Lydia sat alone in the dark dining room, her hand resting on the wet lace of the tablecloth, her eyes fixed on the empty chair at the end of the table.
Outside, the rain had begun to fall, a cold, clean coastal storm that washed the salt and the dust from the windows of the estate.
I stood by the passenger side of my truck, holding the door open for Claire. She climbed in slowly, her movements careful, her hand never leaving the curve of her stomach.
"Are you okay?" I asked, leaning in to adjust the heater as she buckled her seatbelt.
"I’m tired, Daniel," she said, her voice soft, but the pale, bloodless look was gone from her cheeks. "I want to go home. I want to see the workshop."
"The walnut is ready for the finish," I said, smiling as I closed the door and walked around to the driver's seat.
As we drove away from the Whitlock estate, the lights of Newport faded into the dark, wet woods of the Narragansett highway. The city below us was a grid of soft, vertical shadows in the rain, but for the first time in six months, the air in our car was completely clean.
We had survived the public execution. We had survived the lies, the poison, and the family that had tried to make us feel small in our own home.
May you like
"She wanted to make me believe I was alone, Daniel," Claire said, looking out the window as the first lights of our small town appeared through the trees. "She wanted me to think that if you left, I’d have nothing."
"You have everything, Claire," I said, reaching over to take her hand, her gold ring cold against my warm palm. "And we have twenty-four hours before the lawyers start calling. Let’s make the most of it."
