Chapter 11 - The Knock on the Door
Three days passed in peaceful bliss.
The Christmas tree still glowed in the corner, but the toxic cloud that had hovered over our house for so long was completely gone.
Dad had already hired a divorce attorney and filed for an emergency temporary custody order for Mason, with Mason's biological father surprisingly giving full consent over the phone after Dad explained the financial abuse Dana had committed. Mason was thriving, laughing freely without looking over his shoulder.
I spent nearly seventy-two hours glued to my new drawing tablet. My lines were smooth, the colors vibrant on the high-definition display. I had finally completed my submission for the youth art scholarship contest: a portrait of Grandma Ruth, Dad, and Mason laughing together around our kitchen table.
It was 7:30 PM on a snowy Thursday evening. Dad had just put a fresh homemade pizza in the oven, and the smell of melting mozzarella and basil filled the entire downstairs.
"Twenty minutes until dinner, kids!" Dad called out from the stove, wiping flour from his apron.
Suddenly, red and blue lights illuminated the living room curtains.
They flashed rapidly against the walls—dazzling, sharp, and ominous.
"What is that?" Mason asked, putting down his comic book and looking out the front window. "Is that an ambulance?"
Dad frowned, stepping into the living room and parting the blinds.
Parked in our driveway were two Pittsburgh police cruisers.
Before Dad could even process the sight, a heavy, thunderous knock rattled the front door.
*BANG. BANG. BANG.*
"Pittsburgh Police Department! Open up!" a deep voice shouted from the front porch.
Dad hurried to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling it open. "Officers? What's going on? Is something wrong?"
Two uniformed officers stood on the snow-covered porch, their hands resting cautiously near their utility belts. Behind them, sitting in the passenger seat of an unmarked detective vehicle parked on the curb, was Dana.
Her face was swollen, with deep purple bruises around her left eye and red scratch marks along her neck.
The lead officer stepped forward, his expression cold and unyielding. He pulled a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt.
"Adam Walker?" the officer asked.
"Yes, that's me," Dad said, utterly confused.
"You're under arrest for felony domestic battery and aggravated assault," the officer said sternly. "Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
"What?!" Dad gasped, backing away. "I haven't seen her in three days! She left on Christmas!"
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"We have photographic evidence and a sworn medical report filed two hours ago," the officer said, stepping inside the foyer.
From the car outside, Dana slowly rolled down her window. Through the falling snow, she looked straight at me, lifted her bruised chin, and gave me a slow, terrifying smile.
