Chapter 14 - The Anatomy of a Coward
I turned the brass deadbolt with a slow, deliberate click and pulled the door wide open.
The cold night air hit my face like an open palm, smelling of damp leaves, pine needles, and the pungent, chemical stench of gasoline.
The porch light was dead, but the white beam of my tactical light cut through the rolling fog like a razor blade. I flicked it on, pointing it straight down the wide steps directly into Eric’s face.
Eric froze. The sudden blast of a thousand lumens struck his dilated eyes, forcing him to throw up an arm to shield his vision. He stumbled backward down two steps, the plastic fuel container sloshing against his leg.
"Turn that off!" he snarled, his voice cracking with exhaustion and fury. "Turn it off, Eleanor!"
"You look terrible, Eric," I said, my voice steady, cool, and carrying across the lawn without an ounce of tremor. "Hospital scrubs and stolen boots don't suit a man who used to demand bespoke Italian wool."
From the edge of the lawn, Natalie lowered the megaphone, stepping closer until the beam of my light caught the wild, unkempt tangles of her hair. Her face was gaunt, her expensive makeup replaced by the pallor of confinement. But her eyes still held that vicious, unrepentant sparkle—the look she gave me right before she dropped the microphone onto the stage at the Met.
"Still acting like the grand matriarch, Ellie?" Natalie sneered, walking up the driveway. "Still looking down your nose at everyone while you sleep with your high-priced corporate lawyer? We saw the papers! You liquidated the trust! You bought out Dad’s remaining commercial lots! You took my inheritance!"
"You stole four million dollars from our father’s retirement portfolio before you ever touched my marriage, Natalie," I answered, keeping the beam locked between the two of them. "You didn't have an inheritance left. You spent it on offshore shell companies and boutique hotels in Miami while Eric was falsifying invoices to my accounting department."
"I was entitled to that money!" Natalie shrieked, her voice echoing off the silent hills. "I gave Eric what you never could! I gave him a family! I gave this dynasty a future! And what did you do? You threw us into cages! You made us look like monsters!"
"You *are* monsters," I said plainly. "The only difference is that you were sloppy ones."
Eric took a step forward, his jaw trembling, his grip on the wrench tightening. "You ruined me, Eleanor. Do you know what they do to corporate executives in federal detention? Do you know what it feels like to have your entire life stripped away while you sit in a ten-by-eight cell watching your company’s stock soar under your ex-wife's name? You took my firm. You took my reputation. You took my dignity."
"You never had dignity, Eric," a deep voice cut in.
Julian stepped out from the darkness of the porch wraparound, moving soundlessly until he stood three feet to my right, his silhouette tall, imposing, and completely unbothered by the cold. His right hand remained casually inside his coat.
Eric stared at Julian, his eyes bulging with a mixture of hatred and terror. "Julian Vance. The fix-it man. Did she pay you with my equity, Julian? Did she promise you a seat on the board if you kept her safe?"
"She didn't promise me anything," Julian said softly. "Because unlike you, Eric, Eleanor doesn't buy loyalty. She earns it. And unlike you, I don't need a five-gallon can of gasoline to make an impression."
Eric suddenly unscrewed the cap of the fuel can with a vicious twist, splashing gasoline across the lower steps of our porch. The vapor rose in an invisible, choking cloud.
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"Step back!" Eric screamed, pulling an old silver lighter from his scrub pocket. "Step back into that house or I swear to God I will light this whole valley on fire! We aren't leaving here empty-handed! We want the offshore account codes, Eleanor! We want the bearer bonds from the safe! Give them to us, or none of us leave this mountain alive!"
***
