Chapter 5 - The Tape from Dover
Vance did not play the cassette in the house. He bagged the tin box and its contents into clear evidence envelopes, sealing each with red tape and initialing the margins. His movements were methodical, the routine of a man who knew that one procedural mistake could let a monster walk on appeal.
“Mrs. Pendelton,” Vance said, standing and wiping the dust from his trousers. “I need you and Lily down at the divisional station. We need your formal statement of survival, identity verification, and Lily’s testimony regarding how she found the key.”
“I’m ready,” Clara said.
Julianna remained frozen in the doorway of the study, staring at the empty space beneath the floorboards. Her phone began buzzing in her small beaded handbag—a frantic, repetitive vibration. She pulled it out with numb fingers. The screen lit up with caller ID: Father - Wedding Planner.
She let it ring until it stopped.
“Julianna,” Clara said softly as she passed her in the corridor. “If your name is on any of his shell companies, call a criminal defense lawyer before noon. The Serious Fraud Office will freeze every account tied to his national insurance number within two hours.”
Julianna looked up, her expression completely shattered. “My father invested two million pounds into his logistics firm last month. For our wedding gift.”
Clara halted, a cold shadow crossing her eyes. “Arthur doesn't own a logistics firm. He leases six empty warehouses in Tilbury.”
Julianna dropped the phone. It clattered against the parquet floor, the screen spider-webbing into a dozen fractures.
Outside, the neighborhood was beginning to wake up to the spectacle. Neighbors peered over manicured hedges as Arthur was pushed into the back of the police cruiser. His bespoke suit was rumpled, his hair matted against his forehead, the polished veneer stripped away completely.
As Clara led Lily down the brick steps toward Vance’s unmarked vehicle, Lily stopped. She looked back at the large Georgian manor—the house where she had spent seven years believing her mother had chosen death over holding her.
“Mom?” Lily asked, looking up.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is he ever coming back here?”
Clara knelt on the damp gravel, bringing herself level with her daughter’s eyes. She brushed a stray strand of hair behind the girl's ear. “No, Lily. He isn't.”
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At that moment, the front passenger window of Arthur’s police cruiser was rolled down by the officer inside to adjust the mirror. Arthur thrust his face against the metal mesh of the rear window, his eyes wild and bloodshot.
“Clara!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “You think you’re safe? Ask Vance whose name was on the shipping manifest at Tilbury!”
