Chapter 4 - The Law and the Lies
Two county sheriff's deputies were standing in the entry hall, looking deeply uncomfortable. Their hats were in their hands, and the younger officer was taking notes on a small pad while Diane sat on the bottom step of the staircase, weeping hysterically into her wedding veil, which had ripped free from her hair and hung limp over her shoulder.
"Major Vance?" the older deputy asked, recognizing my rank immediately. He straightened his posture slightly. "I'm Deputy Miller. We got a call about a domestic disturbance and an assault at a wedding reception."
"You did," I said, coming to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, keeping Ava and Tommy behind my back. "And you're looking at the evidence right now."
Arthur, Wade's father, marched over, pointing a trembling finger at Ava. "Officer, that girl attacked my son with a deadly weapon! She fractured his jaw! He's sitting right there with a concussion and a wired mouth! I want her taken into custody immediately! She's a menace!"
Deputy Miller looked from Arthur to Ava—a twelve-year-old girl in a mud-stained sundress holding a bruised stuffed animal—and then at me.
"Is this true, Major?" Miller asked.
"My daughter defended her seven-year-old brother from a felony child abuser," I said calmly. I reached into my pocket, pulled out Ava’s phone, and handed it directly to the deputy. "Before you ask any questions about an assault, I suggest you look at the evidence folder labeled 'Tommy'."
Arthur’s face turned from gray to a violent crimson. "That phone contains unverified, fabricated—"
"Shut up, Arthur," Deputy Miller snapped, his tone instantly changing as he tapped through the screen. His eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened until a muscle jumped in his cheek. He swiped through five, ten, fifteen photos. Then he handed the phone to his partner.
"Jesus," the younger deputy muttered under his breath.
Miller looked up at Wade, who shrank back into the cushions of the sofa.
"Who put these marks on this boy?" Miller asked.
No one spoke. Diane’s family stood like statues.
"He fell off his bike," Wade’s mother blurted out, her voice high and thin. "It was an accident! He's a clumsy child!"
"A clumsy child who managed to screw a sliding deadbolt onto the outside of his own bedroom door?" I asked, my voice cutting through her weak defense like a razor. "Deputy, if you walk up those stairs right now, you’ll see the fresh screw holes outside the boy's room where they tore the latch down twenty minutes ago."
Deputy Miller didn't hesitate. He gestured to his partner. "Check the upstairs. Call Child Protective Services and get an investigator down here right now."
"Wait!" Diane screamed, jumping up from the stairs. "No! Don't call CPS! They'll take my children! Luke, tell them! Don't let them take my kids!"
I looked at Diane—at the woman I had once loved, the woman who had traded the safety of her children for a big house, a wealthy country-club husband, and a picture-perfect wedding.
"They're not taking Ava," I said, my voice dead and flat. "She's coming with me tonight. And as for Tommy..." I looked down at the shivering boy in my arms. "...if you think I'm leaving him in this house for one more second, you're out of your mind."
"You can't do that!" Arthur yelled, stepping toward me. "You have no legal custody of Tommy! He isn't even your biological child!"
I stepped toward Arthur, dropping my voice so low that only he could hear it.
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"Arthur, if you take one more step toward me or my kids, I will give you the exact same treatment my daughter gave your son. And unlike her, I won't stop when you hit the floor."
Arthur froze. He looked into my eyes, saw fourteen years of infantry deployment looking back at him, and slowly took two steps backward.
