Chapter 6 - Behind the Reinforced Glass
The trauma unit at Blackwood Memorial was efficient and sterile.
The CT scan revealed two fractured ribs—the fifth and sixth—with mild displacement, but thankfully, no puncture to the lung tissue. My lower lip required four stitches, and my right cheekbone was swollen to the size of a plum, painted in deep shades of violet and indigo.
They placed a tight thoracic wrap around my ribs, started an IV line of anti-inflammatories and mild pain medication, and moved me to a private room on the fourth floor under an alias: *Jane Blackwood*.
Outside my door sat an armed deputy. Thomas Vance wasn't taking any chances.
By nine o'clock the following morning, the pain had settled into a dull, thrumming ache that I could manage with slow, deliberate breaths. The door clicked open, and Walter Briggs walked in.
At seventy-two, Walter moved with the slow, economical grace of an old wolf. He wore an unwrinkled khaki windbreaker, wire-rimmed glasses, and carried a thick manila folder under his arm.
"You look terrible, Eleanor," Walter said, his gravelly voice softening as he pulled a plastic chair beside my bed and gently took my uninjured left hand.
"You should see the other guy," I whispered, managing a faint, cracked smile. "Or rather... you already have."
Walter grunted, opening the folder. "The footage was flawless. The regional prosecutor, Dan Halloran, watched it once and nearly broke his desk with his fist. He’s charging Marcus with first-degree aggravated assault, elder abuse with severe bodily injury, attempted grand larceny over one million dollars, and forgery of a legal instrument. Rachel is being charged with conspiracy to commit elder abuse, felony extortion, and misprision of a felony."
"Bail?" I asked.
"Denied," Walter said flatly. "Halloran argued they were extreme flight risks given their access to liquid assets and the severity of the charges. The magistrate agreed without hesitation. They are currently residing in the high-security holding block at the Blackwood County Detention Center."
I leaned my head back against the thin hospital pillow, looking out the window at the distant silhouettes of the Appalachian foothills. "Marcus will try to work the system. He knows every loophole in the criminal code."
"Not anymore," Walter replied, pulling a printed email from the folder. "The managing partner at his firm held an emergency executive session at seven this morning. Marcus was terminated with cause, effective immediately. The State Bar Disciplinary Board has initiated emergency disbarment proceedings based on the video evidence of him admitting to forging a notary seal. His high-priced friends aren't taking his calls, Eleanor. He is toxic waste."
"And Rachel?"
"The landlord seized her boutique inventory at eight o'clock yesterday evening for non-payment of rent. Her investors pulled their funding the second the local news ran the arrest blotter. She’s broke, Eleanor. Truly broke."
A nurse entered to check my vitals, adjusting the IV drip before quietly stepping out.
"Walter," I said, my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest. "I need to see them."
Walter frowned, his bushy white eyebrows drawing together. "You don't need to do that, Ellie. Let the state handle them. The video speaks for itself; you don't even have to testify in person if your physician signs an affidavit."
"I’m not going there for the state," I said, turning my eyes to meet his. "I’m going there for Arthur. And for myself. Arrange it, Walter. Through Thomas."
May you like
Walter stared at me for a long moment, searching my face. Then, he gave a slow, respectful nod. "Give it two days for the swelling to go down. I’ll drive you myself."
***
