Chapter 58 - The Silence of the House
By evening, the circus had dispersed. The fire was extinguished, leaving behind the rancid, lingering stench of wet charcoal, sulfur, and extinguished dreams. The crime scene tape fluttered violently in the biting river wind, cordoning off the eastern wing of the estate.
The main mansion stood completely empty. For the first time in eighty years, there was no staff, no family, and no uninvited guests prowling the corridors. Mrs. Higgins had been sent to a local hotel for safety, and the private security contractors had established a perimeter at the main iron gates.
I sat in my favorite wingback chair before the great marble fireplace in the drawing room. A fire crackled in the grate—a controlled, gentle warmth that did not threaten to consume the walls. A porcelain cup of chamomile tea sat on the small mahogany side table beside me, untouched.
Julian sat across from me, a glass of amber scotch resting loosely in his hand. He had washed the soot from his face, but the exhaustion etched deep lines around his eyes.
"The district attorney called twenty minutes ago," Julian said, breaking the heavy silence that had hung over the room for hours. "Tyler's bail hearing is set for tomorrow morning. The prosecutor is requesting no bail, citing flight risk and the sheer severity of the arson and attempted murder charges."
"And Richard?" I asked without turning my head.
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"Richard is cooperating fully. He has signed a full confession regarding the falsified trust documents and the fraudulent transfer of property deeds. In exchange, he will plead guilty to three counts of wire fraud. He will serve at least seven years in a federal penitentiary."
I closed my eyes, letting the words settle into the marrow of my bones. My only son, and my only grandson. Both destined for iron cages.
