Chapter 14 - Trespass and Treachery
"Get off my property, Ryan," I said, my voice dropping to a low, warning register.
"You owe us!" he screamed, stepping over the border of the lawn, completely abandoning whatever restraint he had left. His face was purple with rage. "You stole Dad’s legacy! You took his good name, you took all the family resources, and you left us to rot! You think you're better than me? You're just a selfish, cold-blooded bitch who got lucky!"
Before he could take another stride toward the porch, the side gate clicked open. Daniel stepped onto the path, holding a heavy iron garden spade in his right hand. He didn't raise it; he simply stood between Ryan and the steps where I was standing, his posture rigid and imposing.
"You have ten seconds to get back in that car," Daniel said, his voice deadly quiet. "The security cameras on the porch have recorded every threat you just made. The police have already been dispatched. If you touch one foot on these stairs, I will defend my family."
Ryan looked at Daniel, then at the spade, and then up at me. The bravado evaporated, replaced by the ugly, rat-like panic that always took over whenever someone finally stood up to him.
"You think you won, Emily?" Ryan hissed, backing toward his car, spitting on the driveway. "You think you're the spotless daughter? Ask Arthur about the lockbox. Ask him what Mom had to sell to an antique dealer in Raleigh three months ago just to pay the taxes on her senior flat! You don't know a damn thing about what Dad left behind!"
He scrambled into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and ground the starter until the engine roared back to life. He threw the car into reverse, tires screeching against the asphalt as he sped down our quiet cul-de-sac.
Two minutes later, a cruiser from the local precinct pulled up, blue lights flashing silently.
Daniel walked over to the driver’s window while I carried Clara inside to the safety of the nursery. But Ryan’s parting words hung in the air like a foul odor.
*Ask Arthur about the lockbox.*
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My father had died when I was nineteen. I thought I knew every piece of paper, every debt, and every possession he had owned. Why would Ryan mention a lockbox now?
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