Chapter 5 - The Collapse of the Empire
Silence descended on the dining room—a heavy, suffocating silence far worse than the chemical fog that had filled the house twenty-four hours earlier.
Margaret stared at the doll as if it were a venomous snake resting on the mahogany finish. Her lower lip began to tremble, her carefully constructed posture collapsing in an instant.
"Nathan..." she stammered, her voice stripped of all authority, reduced to a high, pathetic pitch. "You... you misunderstand... we were only trying to help Brett..."
"Help Brett?" I roared, slamming my fist onto the dining table so hard the porcelain coffee cup shattered against the tray. "By murdering my wife?! By suffocating my six-year-old daughter?!"
Brett panicked. He grabbed the leather folder, turned, and bolted toward the rear kitchen exit leading to the garage.
"Brett! No!" Margaret screamed.
Brett threw open the back door—only to run straight into the chest of Detective Marcus Vance.
Two uniformed deputies stood right behind him with their handguns drawn.
"Brett Moretti," Detective Vance announced calmly, grabbing Brett by the wrist, forcing him against the kitchen counter, and snapping steel handcuffs onto his wrists. "You are under arrest for attempted first-degree murder, felony false imprisonment, and conspiracy to commit grand larceny."
"Get off me!" Brett screamed, thrashing against the deputies. "It was Mom's idea! She planned the whole thing! She told me Nathan would give us the money if Claire was out of the picture!"
"You coward!" Margaret shrieked, turning on her favorite son with vicious fury. "You pathetic, ungrateful loser! I did everything for you! I built this plan to keep you out of prison!"
"Mrs. Margaret Moretti," Detective Vance said, stepping around the counter and pulling her hands behind her back. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
As the deputies dragged my mother and brother out through the front door in handcuffs, the neighborhood neighbors stood along the sidewalk, watching in shock as the respected matriarch of the Moretti family was loaded into the back of a marked sheriff's cruiser.
Margaret turned her head toward me as the door of the police car opened, tears streaming down her wrinkled face.
"Nathan, please!" she sobbed. "I'm your mother! You can't do this to your own mother!"
I stood on the front porch, holding the stained rag doll tightly against my side.
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"You ceased to be my mother the moment you laid a hand on my daughter," I said coldly.
The cruiser door slammed shut. The flashing red and blue lights faded down the street, leaving the morning quiet once again.
