Chapter 9 - The Handcuffs Click
I climbed the stairs in the quiet dark. Outside, the flashers pulsed rhythmic reds and blues against the wallpaper of the hallway, casting sharp shadows that looked like old ghosts being expelled from the walls.
I stopped at the master bedroom door.
Three slow taps.
“Eliza. It’s Nolan.”
The deadbolt turned instantly. The door swung open, and Eliza stood there wrapped in a heavy wool blanket I had bought for her during our first winter in Colorado. She looked out toward the hallway, her swollen eye tracking the blue emergency lights reflecting off the ceiling.
“They’re taking them?” she whispered, her voice fragile as dry leaves.
“They’re taking all of them,” I said.
A female paramedic and a trauma counselor appeared at the top of the stairs, stepping softly. “Captain Mercer? May we evaluate your wife?”
I looked at Eliza. She nodded faintly.
I stayed beside her while the medic cleaned the lacerations on her scalp with antiseptic wipes, gently applying soothing burn cream to the raw patches where the clippers had gouged the skin. With every touch, Eliza flinched, but she kept her fingers looped tightly through mine, grounding herself against my pulse.
Below, the front door slammed shut. I could hear Brooke shrieking hysterically as she was forced into the back of a patrol car, her cries echoing across the manicured lawns of the neighborhood. Diane’s voice was quieter, spitting threats of lawsuits and ruined reputations until the cruiser door cut her off with a heavy thud.
Agent Miller stepped into the bedroom doorway, removing his hat.
“Mrs. Mercer,” Miller said gently. “We have your statement from the recordings, and Mr. Pierce has surrendered all original bank drafts. You won’t have to set foot in a holding facility. An ambulance will transport you to Saint Jude’s Medical for a full forensic trauma evaluation.”
“Will they get bail?” Eliza asked, her voice cracking.
Miller shook his head. “The syndicate Marcus belongs to is tied to a federal RICO indictment. Your sister-in-law and mother-in-law are charged as co-conspirators in a violent felony extortion ring. They aren't going anywhere for a very long time.”
When the medics brought a transport chair to the stairs, Eliza refused it.
She stood on her own feet. She leaned against my shoulder, her arm wrapped around my waist, and together we walked down the grand staircase of Diane Mercer’s house for the last time.
The kitchen floor was empty now, save for the police chalk, the yellow evidence tape, and the piles of severed chestnut hair waiting to be bagged into plastic envelopes.
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Eliza didn't look at the floor. She looked straight ahead at the open front door, where the cool autumn wind was blowing the stench of bleach and betrayal out into the night.
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