My stepmother dumped my dead mother's ashes onto our driveway, kicked me out of my father's house, and watched as my stepbrother filmed me crawling through the rain. “Smile, orphan,” he laughed, while I desperately gathered what was left of my mother with my bare hands. They thought they'd stolen everything from me / Chapter 6 / 20

Chapter 6 - The Arrest of Celeste

The red and blue emergency lights from three FBI sedans cast long, pulsing arcs across the white brick facade of the estate on Elmwood Drive.

Grant Miller was led down the front porch steps in heavy steel cuffs, his head forced down by two federal agents, his dark sweater soaked from the drizzle.

From the open side door of the county transport van parked near the circular driveway, Celeste watched his descent. Her face, which had worn an expression of icy, untouchable arrogance only an hour ago, was now slack and colorless. The expensive cashmere cardigan—my mother’s sweater—hung loosely around her shivering shoulders.

Agent Miller stepped off the porch and walked over to where Marianne and I stood near the edge of the stone pathway.

He held up a small, heavy black smartphone he had recovered from Grant’s coat pocket.

"We’ve got the full call log and text mirror synced to the field server, Miss Vance," Agent Miller said, his voice low and professional. "Grant didn't just coordinate the accounting office hit. He hired a two-man contracting crew out of Chicago to carry it out. The deposit came straight out of a corporate shell account managed by Celeste."

Marianne nodded slowly, her expression as hard as flint. "And Celeste?"

"Deputies have already secured her inside the transport unit," Agent Miller replied. "She's wailing about her constitutional rights, but her signature is on every wire transfer authorization leading up to yesterday afternoon."

As if on cue, the heavy metal door of the transport van swung wider, and two county deputies hauled Celeste down onto the wet gravel.

"You can't do this!" Celeste shrieked, her voice tearing through the freezing evening air, startling the crows resting in the bare branches of the ancient oak trees. "I am the legal spouse! This is my home! Nora, you ungrateful little liar, your father gave me everything!"

She twisted violently against the deputies' grip, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a look of pure, unadulterated venom. For a second, she looked as though she might lunge across the wet grass, but the heavy steel cuffs held her fast.

I didn't step back. I didn't flinch.

I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out the small brass key, and held it up between two fingers so the porch lights caught the tarnished metal.