Chapter 4 - The Arrest in the Dining Room
We didn't go back to my mother's house. Instead, we sat in the quiet consultation room of the vet clinic while Dr. Hayes helped us call the Cedar Rapids Police Department. Within twenty minutes, two squad cars pulled up with their lights flashing silently against the wet pavement.
Officer Miller, a weathered cop who had known my family since we were kids playing Little League, listened to our story with a hardened expression. He looked at the dropper bottle, listened to the vet's preliminary report, and sighed. "This is attempted murder, Daniel. Multiple counts, considering there were children at the table."
"Let's go," I said, standing up. "She's still at my mother's house."
When we arrived back at the house on Maple Street, the holiday lights were still blinking cheerfully in the front window, casting red and green patterns across the snow. Chris unlocked the front door with trembling hands. The house was dead quiet. The turkey sat untouched on the counter, carved but cooling.
Patricia was sitting rigidly at the dining room table, still wearing her apron, staring at the empty chair where Ethan had sat. When we walked in followed by two police officers in heavy winter coats, she gasped and stood up. "What is this? What have you done to my home?"
"Where is Megan?" Officer Miller asked, his voice steady and authoritative.
"She's... she's upstairs in the guest room," Patricia stammered, color draining from her face. "She's upset. You people humiliated her over a silly misunderstanding—"
"Mom, stop," Chris said, his voice broken. "Just stop talking."
Officer Miller and his partner headed up the stairs, their heavy boots thudding against the old oak steps. A minute later, we heard the sharp click of handcuffs and Megan's voice raised in a shrill, hysterical denial. "Get your hands off me! Chris! Chris, tell them! This is a conspiracy! They're lying!"
They brought her down the stairs in handcuffs. Her hair was disheveled, her expensive holiday sweater twisted at the shoulder. She wouldn't look at any of us until she reached the bottom landing, where her eyes locked onto mine with a venom so pure it made me step back.
May you like
"You ruin everything," she whispered as they led her past us toward the front door. "You and your smug, perfect wife. You were supposed to be out of the way."
Patricia collapsed into her chair, burying her face in her hands as the front door closed behind them. The house felt colder now, stripped of its festive illusion, revealing the rot that had been growing beneath the floorboards for years.
