Chapter 5 - The Tables Turn
Through the glass sidelight, I watched the tableau unfold inside my foyer.
Charles Baldwin pulled his smartphone from his breast pocket, his expression annoyed as he swiped to answer the call. Beside him, Courtney was rummaging through the mail basket on the console table, holding up a platinum credit card in Lucas’s name with a triumphant squeal.
"Charles, look! He left his corporate platinum card right here! We can max this out for the trip to Miami before the registry even updates!"
Charles didn't answer her. He brought the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing as he listened to whatever voice was speaking on the other end. I couldn't hear the words, but I watched the color rapidly drain from my father’s face. The arrogant, self-satisfied smirk melted away, replaced by a sudden, sickly pallor that made his skin look like curdled milk.
"What do you mean, frozen?" Charles barked into the phone, his voice suddenly cracking with panic. "I am the primary executor of—"
He stopped dead.
Through the window, I saw his eyes dart toward the security keypad mounted near the front door. The green ready light—which had glowed steadily for six years—had suddenly flickered off. The small LCD screen on the keypad flashed a brilliant, pulsing red warning: SYSTEM LOCKOUT: SECURITY PROTOCOL 9-OMEGA ENGAGED.
"No," Charles muttered, dropping his briefcase as he lunged toward the keypad, jabbing his finger against the buttons. Beep. Beep. Error. Error. Access Denied.
Courtney dropped the platinum card. It clattered against the hardwood floor with a sharp ring.
"Charles? What's happening? Why is the alarm flashing?" she demanded, her melodic voice rising into a shrill, hysterical shriek.
Before Charles could answer, the deep, rumbling roar of heavy diesel engines echoed up Maplewood Drive.
A Onondaga County Sheriff’s Department cruiser rounded the corner with its blue and red light bar flashing in silent, strobing bursts against the gray autumn sky. Right behind it swung a sleek, black Lincoln Navigator bearing the gold-embossed emblem of Vance & Associates Legal Counsel. Both vehicles pulled aggressively into our circular driveway, spraying gravel across the manicured lawn before slamming to a halt.
Two uniformed deputies bailed out of the cruiser instantly, their heavy boots hitting the pavement with disciplined urgency. Simultaneously, the rear door of the Lincoln opened, and a tall, sharp-featured man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped out, holding a thick leather portfolio under his arm.
I remained seated on the porch, one hand resting on my damp sweatpants, breathing through another dull, rhythmic contraction that was growing steadily closer together.
The sheriff’s deputies reached the front porch first. The older deputy, a weathered sergeant with graying temples, took one look at me—slumped against the brick pillar, pale, sweating, and visibly in active labor—and his hand instinctively dropped toward his utility belt.
"Ma'am! Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?" the sergeant demanded, stepping up the steps.
"My water broke," I said, pointing a steady finger toward the solid oak front door behind them. "And there are two unauthorized trespassers inside my home who just assaulted me."
The sergeant didn't hesitate. He slammed his heavy fist against the front door three times, the wood rattling in its frame.
"Onondaga County Sheriff's Department! Open the door immediately!"
Inside, the shadows scrambled. A second later, the deadbolt turned with a loud, mechanical clack, and the door swung inward.
Charles Baldwin stood in the doorway, his face slick with nervous sweat, his hair disheveled where he had frantically run his hands through it. Behind him, Courtney looked like a cornered animal, her mascara beginning to run down her cheeks in thin, dark streaks.
"Officer, thank God," Charles babbled, stepping forward with his hands raised in a pathetic display of faux-authority. "This is a private family matter. My daughter is having a medical episode, and—"
"Shut your mouth, Charles," the process server from Vance & Associates snapped, stepping past the deputies and thrusting a thick packet of legal documents directly into my father's chest.
May you like
Charles staggered backward, nearly tripping over his own loafers as he caught the papers against his stomach.
"You are formally served," the legal representative announced, his voice carrying clearly across the driveway. "By order of the Onondaga County Superior Court and the executive trustees of the Lucas Gallagher Estate, you are hereby served with an emergency injunction for breaking and entering, physical assault, elder and dependent adult endangerment, and felony financial fraud."
