Chapter 5 - THE AMBUSH AT HOME
My heart slammed against my ribs. "He's doing what?!"
"Judge Thomas is Sharon’s cousin," Marcus warned over the phone. "He's going to sign the emergency order within the hour. If the sheriff serves that order while you're isolated at home, they will take Luke, Elsie, and Nora away from you, and you won't see them again until a full hearing six months from now!"
"Why are you helping me, Marcus?" I asked, gripping the phone tightly.
A heavy sigh came over the line. "Because my wife delivered our twins at thirty-two weeks last year. I saw what you went through in the NICU, Laurel. What Gavin and Sharon are doing to those babies is evil. I couldn't live with myself if I stayed silent."
"What do I do?"
"Do not go back to your house," Marcus urged. "Go somewhere safe. Somewhere off the grid. I'm copying the internal audit spreadsheets right now. I'll send them to a secured email address."
I hung up, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I ran out to the waiting room, where Evelyn was gently rocking Nora's stroller.
"Evelyn, we have to go right now," I said in a frantic whisper, grabbing the stroller handle. "Gavin is getting an emergency custody order from a corrupt family judge. They're going to take the babies."
Evelyn didn't panic. Her blue eyes hardened into steel. She stood up immediately, smoothing her cardigan. "Follow me. We're not taking your car, and we're not taking mine. My nephew owns an auto body shop two blocks away. We're taking his work van."
Twenty minutes later, we had transferred the three infant car seats into the back of a plain silver work van. Evelyn drove us out of town through quiet back streets, avoiding the main highway.
"Where are we going?" I asked, looking back nervously through the rear window at my sleeping babies.
"My sister has a small cabin near Lake Blackwood," Evelyn said smoothly. "No landline, no smart devices, no Wi-Fi. It's completely private. You and the babies will stay there while we organize your defense."
"I don't have a lawyer, Evelyn," I wept, burying my face in my hands. "Sharon was right. I have no money. My bank accounts are frozen. I can't afford a ten-thousand-dollar legal retainer."
"You don't need ten thousand dollars," Evelyn replied with a calm, mysterious smile. "You just need someone who isn't afraid of the Whitlock family."
She reached into her purse, pulled out a small, worn flip phone, and dialed a number from memory. She put it on speaker.
After four rings, a deep, raspy female voice answered. "Evelyn? Is everything alright?"
"Victoria," Evelyn said clearly. "It's time to pay off that favor you owe me from nineteen ninety-eight."
There was a brief pause on the line. "Does this involve Arthur Whitlock’s terrible son?"
"It involves his daughter-in-law and three four-month-old triplets," Evelyn said. "They are trying to frame her and steal the infants."
A low laugh came through the speaker. "Tell her to meet me at my office in forty-five minutes. And tell her to bring every piece of paper she has."
I stared at Evelyn in shock. "Who was that?"
"That," Evelyn said, glancing at me through the rearview mirror, "was Victoria Vance. She spent twenty years as a high-powered federal prosecutor in Chicago before moving back here to run her private practice. She hates Sharon Whitlock more than anyone alive."
An hour later, we pulled into the alley behind an old brick building downtown. Victoria Vance was waiting at the back door. She was sixty, with sharp brown eyes, short silver-streaked hair, and a sharp charcoal suit.
She led us into her office, locked the door, and gestured for me to sit down. I laid out everything: the fake DNA reports at the church, the St. Jude NICU intake sheet, the March 10th sample date, the $4.2 million trust fund bequest, and Gavin’s hidden $1.8 million real estate loss.
Victoria listened in complete silence, reviewing each document with a red pen in hand.
When I finished, she set her pen down and leaned back in her leather chair.
"This isn't just a bitter divorce, Laurel," Victoria said, her eyes flashing with dangerous intensity. "This is a coordinated conspiracy to commit grand larceny, falsify legal documents, and obstruct justice."
"Can they take my babies?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"Not on my watch," Victoria said firmly. "Judge Thomas signing an ex-parte order without a emergency welfare report from Child Protective Services is a massive judicial violation. I'm filing an immediate emergency stay with the State Appellate Court in Albany right now."
Suddenly, a heavy pounding echoed against the front door of Victoria’s law office.
May you like
A loud, booming voice roared through the glass: "LAUREL WHITLOCK! THIS IS THE COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE! WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY COURT ORDER FOR THE IMMEDIATE SEIZURE OF THREE MINOR CHILDREN! OPEN THE DOOR IMMEDIATELY!"
Through the frosted glass window of the lobby, I saw the dark silhouettes of three armed sheriff’s deputies—and standing right behind them were Gavin and Sharon.
