Chapter 10 - The Reckoning of Carrara
Forty-five minutes later, the grand marble foyer of the Vance estate stood in cold, absolute silence.
The afternoon sun had shifted westward, casting long, angular shadows through the clerestory glass, turning the puddle of dirty cleaning water into a dull, leaden sheet of gray. The dented zinc bucket sat motionless in the center of the hall, the half-eaten green apple floating face-down in the murky foam.
On the floor of the adjoining corridor, Julian Vance lay curled against the baseboard, his breath rattling violently through his fractured chest, his expensive running clothes soaked through with dirty water and vomit.
In the distance, the synchronized wail of three emergency sirens cut through the quiet autumn afternoon, growing louder as the cruisers turned off the county highway onto the private estate road.
The heavy front doors remained wide open.
Through the entrance, carried on the crisp mountain wind, drifted a single dry oak leaf, tumbling across the marble threshold until it came to rest against the crumpled bank withdrawal slip lying on the stone.
May you like
The house was empty. The power had been broken.
And across the town, inside the sterile, bright halls of the regional pediatric emergency wing, two small hands were held tightly within the scarred, tattooed palms of a father who would never let go again.
