Chapter 8 - Clearing the Air
The house grew incredibly quiet once the police cruisers drove away.
The moving truck they had hired was still sitting in the driveway.
I stood by the window, watching the movers nervously pack up their gear and leave.
Marcus walked up behind me, holding a cup of water.
"You did well today," he said gently.
I took the cup, my hands shaking for the first time all morning.
"It didn't feel good," I admitted. "I thought I'd feel triumphant."
"It rarely feels good to watch your family self-destruct," Marcus replied.
I took a slow sip of the water, letting the cool liquid calm my nerves.
"Thank you, Agent Vance. For taking me seriously when I first called."
"You came to us with a mountain of evidence, Clare," he smiled slightly. "You made my job easy."
I looked around the living room, taking in the familiar scent of wood polish and old books.
"They really thought they could just push me out," I murmured.
"Greed makes people blind to the details," Marcus noted.
He picked up his briefcase, snapping the latches shut.
"I'll need you to come down to the field office tomorrow to give a final statement."
"I'll be there," I promised.
He paused at the door, turning back to look at me.
"For what it's worth, your grandfather would be proud of how you handled this."
May you like
I felt a lump form in my throat.
"Thank you, Marcus."
