Chapter 18 - The Siege on the Lawn
"Lena, listen to me," I said, slamming the car into drive, my voice dropping into absolute, razor-sharp focus. "Do not open that door. Do not engage with them. Did you call Arthur?"
"Arthur is on his way," Lena whispered. I could hear Nico babbling softly in the background, unaware of the tension, while Maria’s voice quietly murmured comforting words to Noah in the nursery. "The men are not touching the door. They are standing at the end of the walkway with cameras. They are filming the house. Sterling is holding a blue document, shouting through the door that the court granted an emergency interim attachment because you abandoned the jurisdiction."
"Abandoned the jurisdiction?" Gerald Croft snapped from the passenger seat, his eyes blazing behind his glasses. "Give me that phone, David."
I handed him the device. Croft put it to his ear.
"Miss Morales? This is Gerald Croft, Emily’s former counsel. Listen to me very carefully. Richard Sterling is executing a bad-faith intimidation maneuver. Under Pennsylvania Rule of Civil Procedure 1915, an emergency custody attachment cannot be served without an active sheriff’s deputy present. Are there police officers with him?"
"No," Lena replied instantly. "Just two men in suits with cameras and a younger man holding the papers."
"Then it is an unlawful trespass designed to provoke you into opening the door or creating a public disturbance," Croft ordered calmly. "Call the local precinct immediately. Report an active breach of the peace and inform them that Claire Simmons, the court-appointed guardian ad litem, already has an active protective order on file. Do not say another word to Sterling. Let the police handle the perimeter."
"I understand," Lena said, her voice steadying. "We are locked in the nursery. We have food, water, and the security cameras are recording everything."
"We are driving back now," I said into the speaker. "Lena... thank you."
"Hurry home, David," she said before hanging up.
I pressed my foot down on the accelerator, the tires spitting gravel as we shot down the Maine road toward the highway. Eight hours. It would take eight hours of relentless driving to get back.
Beside me, Croft pulled out his cell phone, his fingers moving with unexpected speed. "I may be retired, David, but Richard Sterling was a junior associate at my firm twenty years ago. Let’s see how bold he feels when he hears from his old managing partner."
Croft dialed a number from memory. After three rings, a brisk voice answered: *"Sterling Legal."*
"Put Richard on the line," Croft said, his voice ringing with absolute, icy command. "Tell him Gerald Croft is calling from Penobscot County, Maine, and if he doesn't remove his hired investigators from David Vance’s front porch within five minutes, I will personally file an emergency petition for his disbarment before the state disciplinary board before noon today."
A frantic pause echoed from the other end. Ten seconds later, a breathless, defensive voice came through the speaker: *"Gerald? What are you—"*
"Shut up, Richard," Croft interrupted, his tone cutting like a razor. "I am sitting in David Vance’s car with the complete 2021 medical file from St. Jude’s. I have the attending physician’s cognitive impairment declaration, my own contemporaneous records of Margaret’s extortion, and the audio recording Emily preserved. If you take one more step on that property, I will ensure the district attorney indicts you as a co-conspirator to elder financial exploitation and child endangerment."
*"Gerald, Margaret instructed us that the children were in imminent danger—"*
"Margaret is a client who has committed multiple counts of perjury, and you know it," Croft snarled. "Call off your dogs. Clear the lawn. We will see you in Judge Thornton’s chambers on Monday morning at nine sharp. If you attempt another procedural ambush, I will destroy your career before lunch. Am I clear?"
A long, agonizing silence hung on the line.
*"The process server is leaving,"* Sterling muttered, his arrogance entirely dismantled. *"We'll see you on Monday, Gerald."*
The line went dead.
May you like
Croft let out a long breath, adjusting his glasses, his hands steady. He looked over at me with a grim smile. "That bought us time, David. But Monday will be war. Margaret has realized she can't intimidate you. Which means by Monday, she will be entirely desperate."
***
