Chapter 7 - The Glass in Arrendale
At 2:00 PM on Wednesday, Lucas, Emily, and Detective Brody arrived at the Lee Arrendale State Prison in Alto, Georgia.
The concrete visitor’s consultation suite smelled of industrial disinfectant, stale floor wax, and defeat. Lucas sat on a metal stool behind the two-inch-thick ballistic glass partition, dressed in his tailored dark overcoat, watching the heavy steel security door unlock with a loud hydraulic buzz.
Rebecca Sterling was led into the booth by two armed female corrections officers, her wrists and ankles bound in heavy transport chains.
Her designer silk blouses, diamond earrings, and styled blonde blowout were completely gone. In their place was an oversized, coarse khaki institutional jumpsuit with GDC INMATE stenciled in bold black letters across the back. Her face was pale, sunken, and hollowed out by seven days in maximum administrative segregation.
She slowly picked up the black plastic telephone receiver with trembling, calloused hands that had lost every acrylic nail.
Lucas lifted his to his ear.
"Lucas..." Rebecca wailed, pressing her forehead against the scratched glass, fresh tears immediately leaking down her sunken cheeks. "Lucas, my brother! Please... you have to listen to me! It was Arthur! Arthur told me that if we didn't take the company, the creditors would destroy our family! I never wanted to hurt you! I paid for the best private room at the clinic! Tell the district attorney to drop the kidnapping charges!"
Lucas looked through the scratched glass at the sister who had stolen six years of his life and chained his innocent son to a fence.
He did not feel rage. He did not feel hatred.
He felt the vast, clean, unyielding stillness of a sovereign patriarch who had walked through the fire and emerged victorious on the other side.
"You chained an eight-year-old boy to a cedar post, Rebecca," Lucas said, every word hitting with the force of an iron hammer. "You slapped his face when he cried for his mother, and you watched him starve in the cold so you could wear designer clothes."
"I made a mistake, Lucas!" Rebecca wept, pressing her shackled fists against the glass. "I’ll sign the trust waivers! I’ll sign whatever restitution agreement you want! Just please... don't let them send me to the maximum-security unit in Pulaski! I can't survive thirty years in prison!"
Lucas pulled a single certified document from his leather portfolio and pressed it firmly against the glass.
It was the final, unappealable decree from the Fulton County Superior Court: Permanent Injunction of Restitution, Complete Asset Forfeiture, and Total Revocation of All Familial Standing.
"The Alpharetta mansion was cleared at sunrise, Rebecca," Lucas whispered, looking straight into her wide, terrified eyes. "Your sports cars, your jewelry, and your offshore accounts have been seized by the federal receiver to fund our foundation for abused children. You will leave prison in thirty years with nothing but the khaki jumpsuit on your back."
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Rebecca let out a loud, bloodcurdling shriek, slamming her shackled fists against the glass.
Lucas set the receiver down on its cradle, stood up, smoothed his coat, and walked out of the visitor’s room into the bright Georgia sunshine, leaving the monster of our past locked behind iron bars forever.
