Chapter 9 - The Breaking Point
"Dad, stay right where you are. Get into the shed or the garage if it's open. I’m coming," I commanded, already grabbing my car keys from the counter.
Jess stepped up beside me, her maternal fury instantly replaced by pragmatic urgency. "Take my coat, it's heavier. Call the police on the way, David. She cannot withhold a man's heart medication in freezing temperatures. That's a crime."
Brooke stood up, her face white. "I'm coming with you."
"No, Brooke," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You stay here with the boys. If Garrett finds out you’re involved right now, it’s going to turn into a war zone. Keep Oliver and Mason safe."
Brooke nodded fiercely. "Be careful, David. When Evelyn feels cornered, she is completely capable of anything."
I sprinted to the crossover, revved the engine, and blasted down the snowy suburban roads. My phone was connected to Bluetooth, dialing the local police dispatch.
"Brookside Police Department, what is your emergency?"
"My name is David Walker. My seventy-two-year-old father, Arthur Walker, has been illegally locked out of his home at 1442 Elmwood Terrace by his wife. It is twenty degrees outside, and she has locked away his essential cardiovascular medication. He is currently exposed to the elements. I need an officer and an ambulance dispatched immediately."
"Units are en route, sir. Are there any weapons in the home?"
"No weapons, but the homeowner is volatile and manipulative," I said. "I am arriving on scene in four minutes."
When I pulled onto Elmwood Terrace, the scene was chillingly bleak.
The sprawling two-story colonial home was lit up like a Christmas postcard, pristine and glowing behind manicured evergreen hedges. But on the front porch, huddled against the front door like a stray dog, sat my father. He had pulled his coat collar up to his ears, his lips tinged with blue, shivering so violently his entire frame shook.
Parked in the driveway was Garrett’s luxury sedan.
I didn't bother using the brakes gently; I skidded to a halt on the snow, threw the door open, and ran across the lawn.
"Dad!" I yelled, dropping to my knees beside him.
His skin felt like ice. His breathing was shallow and rattling. "David... the codes... she erased my fingerprint from the keypad..."
Before I could wrap my arms around him to carry him to my heated car, the heavy mahogany front door swung open.
Garrett stood in the entryway, looking flustered and conflicted, holding a glass of scotch. Behind him, standing by the grandfather clock in a silk dressing gown, was Evelyn.
"What are you doing here, David?" Garrett demanded, though his voice lacked conviction. He looked at Dad on the ground, a flicker of genuine shame flashing across his face. "Mom said Dad needed time to cool off outside."
"Time to cool off?!" I roared, standing up and closing the distance between us until my chest hit Garrett’s. "It is twenty degrees out here, you spineless coward! Look at your father! His lips are blue!"
"David, lower your voice," Evelyn declared, stepping forward, her face an unmovable slab of granite. "Your father had a disgraceful tantrum. He can come inside as soon as he apologizes for embarrassing me in public and hands over his car keys permanently. We are a respectable family, and I will not allow senility to destroy my reputation."
"He isn't senile, Evelyn!" I shouted into the house. "He just finally saw you for what you are! A parasite who feeds on everyone around her!"
Garrett shoved me back. "Don't talk to our mother like that!"
I didn't shove him back. I stepped forward, stepping directly into his space, my eyes boring into his soul. "Brooke is taking Mason to Chicago, Garrett. She’s leaving you."
Garrett froze. The glass of scotch slipped from his fingers, shattering onto the hardwood floor of the foyer. "What?"
"She was at my house," I told him, making sure every word hit like a sledgehammer. "She watched you turn into Evelyn. She watched you silence your own son. And she’s done with you. You chose Mom’s sickness over your wife and child. How does it feel, Garrett? Was the golden pedestal worth losing your entire family?"
Garrett’s face drained of color. He looked like a man who had just stepped off a cliff. "No... Brooke wouldn't..."
Down the street, the wail of sirens pierced the winter night.
Red and blue emergency lights reflected against the snowbanks, washing the manicured lawn of 1442 Elmwood Terrace in flashing, chaotic crimson. Two patrol cruisers and an ambulance turned the corner, their tires spraying slush as they pulled up to the curb.
Evelyn’s eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated panic.
"What did you do?!" she shrieked at me, clutching her robe. "The neighbors! You called the police to my house?!"
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"I called for an ambulance to save my father's life," I said coldly, turning my back on her as the paramedics leaped out of the rig with a stretcher and emergency blankets. "And for the rest of your life, Evelyn, whenever your country club friends drive past this house, they won't remember your Christmas tree. They’ll remember the night you locked your husband in the snow."
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