Chapter 7 - The Law Steps In
Two more marked squad cars rolled up the driveway, their red and blue strobe lights painting the manicured lawn and the white columns of the mansion in flashing hues of violence.
The guests were scrambling to leave, muttering apologies, looking down at their designer shoes as they bypassed the police tape being unrolled across the front porch. Within ten minutes, the terrace was empty of partygoers, leaving only the caterers packing up in stunned silence, the police officers, Evelyn Cross, Vanessa, and me.
Vanessa was backed against the glass French doors, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her hair was wild, her lipstick smeared where she had rubbed her mouth in sheer panic.
Detective Miller, a veteran female investigator with the Elder Protection Division, stepped forward holding a manila folder.
"Vanessa Vance?" Miller said, pulling out a pair of hinged steel cuffs.
"Do not touch me!" Vanessa hissed, baring her teeth. "Do you know who my father is? He’s on the board of trustees at Columbia! He will have your badges by morning! Daniel, tell them! Tell them this was a domestic dispute! Tell them we’re handling it privately!"
I stood six feet away, my arms folded across my chest, looking down at the woman I had shared a bed with for six years. I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel triumph. I felt the profound, cleansing coldness of a surgeon removing a malignant tumor.
"I told you yesterday, Vanessa," I said quietly. *"Enjoy that wine. By tomorrow, you may have nothing left to celebrate."*
"You bastard!" she screamed, lunging at me with her manicured nails aimed at my eyes.
Detective Miller and a uniform officer caught her before she could cross the threshold. They spun her around, forcing her face-first against the glass door she had so proudly polished that morning.
"Stop resisting!" Miller barked, ratcheting the cuffs tight over Vanessa’s delicate wrists.
"Ouch! You’re hurting me!" Vanessa sobbed, her aristocratic persona dissolving into ugly, snot-streaked hysterics. "Daniel! Please! Look at me! I’m your wife! I made a mistake! I was stressed! I was trying to secure our future! You can't let them take me to jail! You know what will happen to me in there!"
Evelyn Cross stepped forward, opening her leather folio.
"Mrs. Vance," Evelyn said in a voice as calm as a cemetery at dawn. "You are being charged under New York Penal Law with Grand Larceny in the Second Degree, Forgery in the Second Degree, Identity Theft in the First Degree, and Endangering the Welfare of an Incompetent or Physically Disabled Person—a Class D Felony. Because your victim is over seventy-five years of age and sustained demonstrable cranial trauma while deprived of basic sustenance, the District Attorney’s office has already approved the enhancement for Aggravated Elder Abuse."
Vanessa’s knees gave out. She slumped against the arresting officers, who hauled her upright by her elbows.
"Furthermore," Evelyn continued, handing a blue-backed document to Detective Miller. "Here is a temporary order of protection issued this afternoon by Judge Miller. You are barred from coming within five hundred feet of Clara Vance, Daniel Vance, or this property. All shared bank accounts have been frozen under judicial warrant. Your personal cards are currently declined. You have no access to the marital estate until the probate court concludes its investigation."
Vanessa looked up at me, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, her breath hitching in her throat. For the first time since I had met her, the arrogance was completely gone. In its place was the raw, naked terror of a predator that had fallen into its own pit.
"Daniel..." she whimpered, her voice cracking. "What about my clothes? My jewelry? Where am I supposed to go?"
"You're going to the county intake facility in Valhalla," Detective Raymond said, escorting Julian Cole down the front steps behind her. "Watch your step, ma'am."
I stood on the porch as they led them down the driveway.
Julian was weeping openly now, begging for an attorney, blaming Vanessa with every breath. Vanessa didn't speak again. She was shoved into the back of the marked patrol cruiser, her emerald dress catching on the door frame before the officer slammed it shut.
The red and blue lights flickered across the autumn trees as the cruisers pulled away, their sirens cutting through the midnight silence of the neighborhood.
I turned back into the quiet, hollow house.
May you like
I walked into the kitchen, picked up the half-empty glass of cabernet Vanessa had left on the marble island the night before, and poured it down the drain.
***
