Chapter 4 - Behind Barred Doors
Inside the intake facility of the Denver County Jail, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzed with a relentless, maddening hum. Eleanor Hayes sat on a concrete bench inside a holding cell, her designer cardigan stained with sweat and grime from the paddy wagon. Her aristocratic persona had completely disintegrated into hysteria.
"Guard! Guard, this is unconstitutional!" Eleanor screeched, rattling the heavy metal door. "I require my heart medication immediately! My son and I are taxpayers! We demand to see a judge this instant!"
"Sit down and shut your mouth, inmate," a stone-faced corrections officer yelled back through the glass partition. "Judge doesn't hold morning arraignments until nine o'clock. You've got six hours to practice being quiet."
In the adjacent holding tank, Trevor was curled into a ball in the corner, clutching his bruised ribs. The realization of what he had done was finally crashing down upon him like an avalanche.
For two years, he had believed he possessed complete dominion over Clara. He had believed that her quiet demeanor, her soft voice, and her patient endurance of Eleanor's endless insults were signs of cowardice. He had genuinely thought that if he pushed hard enough—if he stripped away her pride and cut the hair she took so much care of—she would break, sign the power of attorney papers, and hand over the key to her family trust.
Instead, she had lured him into a bear trap.
"Trevor!" Eleanor's shrill voice penetrated the wall separating the men's and women's holding cells. "Did you hear me, Trevor? Call our lawyer! Call Arthur Pendelton right now!"
"Arthur won't answer, Mom," Trevor muttered, his voice cracking into a dry sob. "Arthur is a real estate lawyer. He doesn't handle violent felonies. And we don't have any money to pay a retainer anyway!"
"What do you mean we don't have money?!" Eleanor gasped. "You told me you had fifty thousand in the joint business account!"
Trevor buried his face in his hands, pulling desperately at his own hair. "It's gone, Mom! It was gone three weeks ago! That's why I needed Clara's savings! The loan sharks from the underground sportsbook told me they'd break my kneecaps if I didn't pay the interest by this Friday!"
A chilling quiet fell over the women's holding cell. When Eleanor spoke again, the faux-maternal warmth was completely gone, replaced by venomous fury. "You idiot. You told me this was to save your sister's medical clinic credit! You lied to me!"
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"You didn't care about Briana either, Mom!" Trevor shouted back, his voice echoing through the cell block. "You just wanted Clara humbled! You hated that her father left her a multi-million-dollar estate while Dad left you with a mortgaged house and a pile of credit card bills!"
Down the hallway, the booking sergeant looked at the surveillance audio monitor and smiled faintly. "Keep talking, folks. Every syllable is being transferred directly to District Attorney Vance’s morning brief."
