Chapter 7 - The Handcuffs
The heavy footsteps on the front porch sounded like the herald of doom.
A loud, thunderous knock rattled the screen door.
"New York City Police Department! Open the door!"
Evan curled into a ball on the kitchen chair, shaking uncontrollably. "Don't open it, Mom. Don't let them in."
"I have to open it!" Linda cried, panic overriding her senses. She hurried to the foyer and unlocked the deadbolt with trembling fingers.
Standing on the porch were two uniformed NYPD officers, flanked by a tall, broad-shouldered man in a bespoke black suit whom Linda had never seen before. Marcus Vance stepped forward, his eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses cold and calculating.
"Mrs. Linda Miller?" the lead officer asked.
"Yes... yes, what is this about, officers? There’s been a terrible misunderstanding—"
"Is Evan Miller on the premises?"
"I’m his mother! What has he done?"
The officers didn't wait. They pushed the screen door open and stepped into the hallway. Within seconds, they found Evan huddled in the kitchen.
"Evan Miller," Officer Rodriguez said, unhooking a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. "Stand up and place your hands behind your back."
"On what charges?" Evan screamed, scrambling away from the table, backing against the refrigerator. "On what charges? I didn't do anything!"
"You are under arrest for domestic assault in the second degree, harassment, and felony fraud involving the falsification of commercial financial instruments," the officer recited calmly, grabbing Evan’s wrist and twisting it behind his back with practiced efficiency.
The sharp *click-clack* of the steel handcuffs locking around Evan’s wrists sounded through the kitchen.
"Ow! You’re hurting my wrists! Officer, please, I have a meeting with my investors!"
"Your investors are the ones who filed the criminal complaint, Mr. Miller," Marcus Vance spoke from the kitchen doorway, his voice low and cultured. "Along with high-definition audio and video footage recorded from Ms. Bennett’s personal security bracelet during the assault at eleven-fifteen last night."
Linda gasped, clutching Marcus’s lapel. "You! Who are you? Are you with that little bitch?"
Marcus looked down at Linda’s hand on his coat as if an insect had landed there. He gently, but firmly, peeled her fingers away.
"I am Marcus Vance, Chief of Security for Bennett Global Holdings. And you would do well to mind your tongue, Mrs. Miller. You are currently an unindicted co-conspirator in a grand larceny investigation regarding the fraudulent power-of-attorney documents used to encumber this property."
"This is my house!" Linda shrieked, her voice reaching a hysterical pitch. "My husband left me this house! You can't take my house!"
Marcus reached into his breast pocket and produced a sealed legal notice from the New York State Supreme Court, handing it to her.
"As of eight-thirty this morning, the deed to 144 Elm Street has been placed into emergency receivership pursuant to the default of Apex Capital Note 409-B. You have until twelve o'clock tomorrow to vacate the premises with your personal belongings. At that time, the sheriff’s department will enforce the eviction order."
"No! No!" Linda wailed, throwing the papers onto the floor. "Evan! Tell them! Evan!"
Evan was being shoved down the hallway by the two officers, his face red and wet with tears.
"Call a lawyer, Mom!" he sobbed, his voice fading as he was escorted out the front door into the rain. "Call uncle Jerry! Sell your jewelry! Get me bail money! Get me out of here!"
The front door slammed shut.
May you like
Outside, the sirens wailed as the cruisers pulled away, leaving Linda Miller alone in the quiet, empty kitchen, surrounded by broken porcelain, cold chamomile tea, and the court order that condemned her to the street.
***
