Chapter 11 - THE MIDNIGHT CALL FROM CELL BLOCK FOUR
The grandfather clock in the foyer struck two in the morning, its heavy chimes echoing through the quiet halls of the lakefront cottage. Outside, the calm waters of the reflecting pool rippled under a sudden autumn wind. Emma lay with her head resting against Daniel’s chest, the rhythm of his breathing the only sound anchoring her to reality after hours of dancing and celebrating. Her patched wedding dress hung across the vintage armchair near the bay window, its pale blue embroidery catching the silver glow of the moon. For the first time in months, she believed the nightmare was truly over.
Then Daniel’s phone violently vibrated against the mahogany nightstand.
The harsh, metallic buzzing cut through the silence like a scalpel. Daniel stirred instantly, his shoulder tensing beneath Emma’s cheek. He reached out in the dark, squinting at the harsh glare of the screen.
"Who is it?" Emma whispered, her heart instinctively leaping into her throat.
Daniel stared at the caller ID, his jaw tightening into iron. "It’s the county sheriff’s department. Central processing."
Emma sat bolt upright, clutching the silk sheets to her chest. A cold chill crept across her bare skin. "Your mother."
Daniel pressed speakerphone with trembling fingers. "Daniel Vance speaking."
"Mr. Vance, this is Sergeant Miller from County Intake," a tired, raspy voice crackled through the speaker. "I apologize for the late hour, sir. But your mother, Victoria Vance, has just caused a critical medical incident in holding cell B-3."
Daniel’s voice was deadpan, stripped of all warmth. "Did she assault someone again? Because if she did, call her lawyer. We made our position clear at the estate."
"No, sir. She collapsed after swallowing something during her fifteen-minute recreation block," the sergeant replied bluntly. "Paramedics pumped her stomach, but she refused transport to County General until she was allowed one call. She didn't want her attorney. She demanded you, and specifically your wife, Emma."
Emma gripped Daniel’s forearm. "Me? Why me?"
"Put her on, Miller," Daniel ordered, his knuckles white against the bedpost.
There was a muffled clatter, the sliding of heavy steel deadbolts, and the harsh sound of labored, wheezing breath. When Victoria’s voice came through the line, it wasn't the furious, shrieking pitch from the fountain hours earlier. It was brittle, dripping with venomous amusement.
"Did you think... a splash in dirty water... ended it, Daniel?" Victoria rasped, coughing violently. "Did you really let her put that ring on your finger without asking her about the second safety deposit box?"
Emma leaned toward the phone, fury battling the rising panic in her gut. "Victoria, stop the games. You humiliated yourself in front of every prominent family in this county. There are no more secrets to dig up. June’s memorial is standing. The truth about the mill is out."
Victoria let out a wet, rattling laugh that raised the hair on Emma’s neck. "You poor, ignorant little orphan. You think the mill fire was about money? You think June died an innocent saint? Go to the First Commonwealth Bank on 5th Street. Box four-one-two. The key is taped beneath the bottom drawer of the jewelry cabinet in my dressing room. Look at the deed dated August twelfth, nineteen-ninety-four."
"Mother, stop talking," Daniel snarled. "We aren't playing your mind games."
"Open the box, Daniel!" Victoria suddenly screamed, her voice cracking with raw hysteria before turning into a fit of suffocating coughs. "Open it before the feds seize the estate at sunrise! Ask your precious bride why her mother’s maiden name is on the deed to the very ground the fire started on! Ask her who really locked the exit doors!"
A chaotic crash sounded over the receiver, followed by shouting guards, the shrill beep of a heart monitor, and the sudden, definitive cut of a dial tone.
The bedroom fell into dead silence.
Emma stared at Daniel. His face was completely drained of color, his dark eyes wide and unblinking in the moonlight.
"She’s lying," Emma whispered, her voice shaking violently. "She’s cornered, Daniel. She’s trying to poison our wedding night because she couldn't tear us apart at the altar."
Daniel slowly lowered the phone, his gaze drifting toward the window, looking out toward the dark hills where the Vance family manor stood silent and brooding against the night sky.
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"My mother is a monster, Emma," Daniel said softly, the tremor in his voice terrifying her more than any shout could. "She lies about everything. But she never gives specific box numbers unless the knife is already sharpened."
***
