Chapter 3 - Red, White, and Blue
The sound of the sirens began as a faint wail in the distance.
Arthur froze,
his hand still gripping the edge of the table.
Margaret turned her head toward the window,
her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Is there an accident on the main road?"
she asked.
The wail grew louder,
transforming into the aggressive,
staccato rhythm of multiple emergency vehicles.
It wasn't just one police car.
It was a fleet.
Then came the heavy thud of tires on the gravel driveway.
The blue and red lights began to dance across the dining room walls,
turning the wallpaper into a chaotic strobe of colors.
Arthur stood up,
his face pale.
"What did you do?"
he hissed,
turning to me.
"I told you,"
I said,
picking up Sophie and holding her to my chest.
"I sent a photo."
The front door didn't just open;
it was kicked in with a force that shook the entire mansion.
Shouts filled the foyer,
the heavy clatter of boots on marble.
"Federal agents!"
"Stay where you are!"
Margaret let out a thin,
piercing shriek as men in tactical gear swarmed the dining room.
They weren't local cops.
They wore jackets with 'OIG' and 'FBI' emblazoned in yellow.
At the center of the storm walked Silas.
He was in a charcoal suit,
his face a mask of calculated fury.
He looked at the table,
at the bowl of meat,
and I saw his jaw tighten until the bone nearly broke.
He didn't look at his sister first.
He looked at his niece.
"Is she okay?"
he asked,
his voice a low rumble of thunder.
"She's having an aura,"
I said,
referring to the warning signs of her seizure.
"The dog is gone,
Silas."
"They killed him."
Silas turned his gaze to Arthur and Margaret.
The look in his eyes was enough to make Arthur stumble back into his chair.
"Arthur Vaughn,"
Silas said,
his voice dangerously quiet.
"Margaret Vaughn."
"You are under arrest for the theft and destruction of federal medical equipment,"
"Abuse of a vulnerable person,"
"And animal cruelty with malicious intent."
Margaret clutched her pearls so hard they snapped,
the white spheres scattering across the floor like tiny,
frozen tears.
"This is a mistake!"
she wailed.
"It was an old dog!"
"It was biting the furniture!"
Arthur tried to stand,
his face returning to a defiant purple.
"Get out of my house!"
he shouted.
"I know the governor!"
One of the agents stepped forward and forced Arthur’s arms behind his back.
The metallic click of the handcuffs was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
"The governor can't help you with federal felonies,
Arthur,"
Silas said.
He pointed at the serving bowl.
"And that meat is going to be DNA tested."
"If that is a service animal,"
"You are going to a federal penitentiary for a very,
very long time."
Arthur looked at the meat,
then at me,
and for the first time,
I saw the flicker of true,
unfiltered terror in his eyes.
The smug smile was gone,
May you like
replaced by a trembling lip.
The king of the mansion had been dethroned in his own dining room.
