Chapter 3 - Blue Lights and Black Ties
""Police department! Open the door!"" a loud, authoritative voice boomed through the entryway.
Julian did not release his father’s wrist until he heard the latch turn. Uncle Thomas, who had been hiding by the mahogany bar clutching a half-empty tumbler of scotch, rushed forward to yank the heavy oak door open. Two uniformed officers stepped into the foyer, rain misting on the dark nylon of their windbreakers, their hands resting cautiously near their duty belts.
The lead officer, a burly sergeant with salt-and-pepper hair and a stern jaw, took in the scene in an instant: the grandfather clutching a bruised wrist, the corporate heir standing in a defensive fighting stance, and the mother curled over a weeping child on the floor.
""Who called nine-one-one?"" the sergeant asked, stepping fully into the living room.
""I did,"" Julian said, straightening his suit jacket. ""My name is Julian Sterling. I requested assistance to remove an unwanted and hostile party from my residence.""
""Julian, shut your mouth!"" Aunt Beatrice shrieked from the dining table, her gold bracelets clattering as she waved her hands frantically. ""Officer, this is a family misunderstanding. My brother simply lost his temper over a broken vase. There is no need for badges here.""
""A broken vase doesn't prompt an emergency call mentioning state evidence, ma'am,"" the sergeant replied calmly. He turned toward Eleanor, his eyes softening slightly as he saw the child trembling in her lap. ""Ma'am? Are you or the little girl injured?""
""No,"" Eleanor murmured, her voice hollow as she slowly stood up, scooping Lily into her arms. But she did not let go of the photograph. She held it pressed flat against Lily’s pink back, keeping it out of sight. ""We are not injured. But we cannot stay here.""
""Neither can he,"" Julian stated, pointing directly at his father. ""Richard Sterling does not reside here. I want him escorted off my property immediately, and I intend to file a restraining order first thing tomorrow morning.""
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Richard let out a dry, barking laugh that made the officers bristle. ""You file whatever you wish, Julian. But before these fine officers drag me away from my own son's house, why don't you ask Eleanor what she's holding behind that girl’s tutu? Ask her whose murder she is preparing to cover up.""
The room seemed to drop five degrees. The officers exchanged a quick, alert glance, the junior officer’s hand instinctively resting on his taser holster.
