Chapter 6 - The Siege of Carver
The drive from Chicago to Carver, Indiana, took four hours. I didn't stop for coffee. I didn't turn on the radio. The hum of my rented sedan's tires against the asphalt was the only companion I needed.
By the time I crossed the city limits, the morning sun was struggling to pierce through a thick layer of Midwestern gray smog. Carver hadn't changed. It was a town of dying auto-part factories, strip malls anchored by discount stores, and suburban cul-de-sacs where people spent their lives drowning in credit card debt just to prove they were better than their neighbors.
I drove down Elmwood Terrace. The houses were large, faux-brick two-stories built in the late nineties, their lawns meticulously manicured while the foundations settled unevenly into the clay.
Number 412 sat near the end of the cul-de-sac.
My parents' house.
Parked in the driveway was Felix’s sedan and Simone’s late-model luxury SUV—the one with the leather seats and heated steering wheel that had cost me eighteen months of combat deployments.
I pulled up to the curb, killed the engine, and stepped out.
The morning air smelled faintly of damp leaves and woodsmoke. As I walked up the concrete path toward the porch, the front blinds twitched.
I didn't knock. I pushed the heavy oak door open. It wasn't locked.
The interior of the house was in absolute chaos.
Suitcases were half-packed in the foyer. Boxes of designer clothes were stacked against the wall. The museum of Simone’s achievements—the cherry-wood framed certificates, the beauty pageant sashes, the framed photos of her smiling in foreign capitals—hung crookedly on the living room walls.
At the dining room table sat Leona.
She looked like she had aged ten years in ten hours. Her makeup was gone, her hair was an unbrushed nest of graying peroxide, and she was surrounded by a sea of past-due notices, bank statements, and legal letters.
Felix was standing over the kitchen counter, desperately talking into a landline phone.
"—yes, I understand the overdraft fees, but my daughter’s wire usually hits on the first! Can't you just extend the grace period by three days? Hello? Hello?"
The dial tone echoed through the silent kitchen. Felix slowly set the receiver down, his shoulders slumping as if his spine had turned to dust.
Then Simone walked out of the kitchen, clutching a mug of coffee. Her eyes were swollen shut from crying, her designer tracksuit wrinkled.
She saw me first.
The mug shattered against the hardwood floor. Hot coffee splashed across her bare ankles.
"What are you doing here?" Simone screamed, her voice cracking with pure terror. "Mom! She’s here! She followed us!"
Leona snapped her head up. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto me, and for a second, I saw the raw, venomous hatred that had poisoned my entire childhood.
"Get out," Leona croaked, her voice shredded from screaming. "Get out of my house before I call the police!"
"With what phone, Leona?" I asked calmly, stepping into the center of the foyer. "You haven't paid the utility bundle in two months. According to the notice on your side table, they’re cutting the power at noon."
Felix emerged from the kitchen, his face gray. "Nora... Nora, please. The bank froze everything. Simone’s car... the repo truck came by two hours ago. We had to hide it behind the Henderson’s shed. If people see that... if the neighbors find out..."
"You’re still worried about the neighbors, Felix?" I asked, looking at him with genuine pity. "Your house is burning down, your daughter’s engagement to an Admiral’s son was canceled in front of twenty witnesses, and your only concern is Mrs. Henderson across the street?"
"You did this to us!" Simone shrieked, stepping forward, her face twisted in rage. "You ruined my life! Julian won't answer my texts! His lawyer sent a courier to my apartment this morning demanding the return of the ring and threatening an injunction! I had everything! I was going to be an Ellsworth! I was going to get out of this miserable town, and you dragged me down because you couldn't stand seeing me happy!"
I took two slow, measured steps toward Simone.
She stopped shouting. She took a step back, her back hitting the wall right beneath a giant framed photo of her smiling in Paris.
"You didn't have anything, Simone," I said, my voice cold and lethal. "You had a stage set built out of my blood. You thought you could build a life out of stolen money and look down on the person who bought your foundation. But the rent is due. And the lease just expired."
"Where is Miriam?" I demanded, turning to Leona.
May you like
Leona sneered, a hideous, desperate grin spreading across her pale lips. "Oh, the saintly grandmother? Go look for her, Captain. Go see what your precious eight hundred dollars bought her."
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