Chapter 2 - THE INTERROGATION OF GREENWICH
The heavy iron gates slid back with a low, mechanical groan. I stood beneath the grand stone portico of my home, hands tucked into the pockets of my trousers, watching the blue sedan navigate the winding driveway. Rain continued to hammer the hood of the car as it came to a halt on the gravel turnout.
Detective Sarah Martinez stepped out, her trench coat buttoned tight against the deluge. Accompanying her from the passenger side was a taller, sharply dressed man with slicked-back gray hair and a navy suit that practically screamed corporate litigation.
I recognized him instantly. Arthur Pendelton. Senior partner at Pendelton, Croft & Vance—the primary law firm that had represented my late father’s estate and currently held three seats on the board of Carter Global Logistics.
My eyes narrowed as they approached the steps.
"Mr. Carter," Detective Martinez said, holding up a silver badge tucked inside a leather wallet. "Thank you for opening the gate. As I stated on the intercom, we are here on an urgent welfare check."
"Detective," I replied smoothly, my voice lacking any trace of warmth. "And Arthur. I didn't realize Child Protective Services was hiring seventy-year-old corporate defense attorneys to do weekend field calls."
Pendelton offered a thin, antiseptic smile that didn't reach his cold, watery blue eyes. "Nathan. Good to see you looking so well. I happened to be at the precinct reviewing some estate compliance documents when Detective Martinez received the emergency dispatch. Given the... delicate nature of the Carter family name, I thought it prudent to offer my legal assistance."
"Your legal assistance isn't required on my private property, Arthur," I said, blocking the doorway with my shoulder. "Detective, you mentioned an anonymous tip?"
"Yes, sir," Martinez said, taking out a waterproof digital notepad. "At 8:14 AM, our dispatch received a call claiming a young girl, Lily Gable, aged seven, was seen trespassing near your estate perimeter carrying an infant. The caller expressed concern that the infant was in immediate medical danger."
"Who was the caller?" I asked.
"Caller ID was spoofed through an untraceable burner line," Martinez replied, her sharp brown eyes assessing my posture, the state of the doorway, and the subtle tension in my frame. "Mr. Carter, is the girl inside?"
"Before I answer that, Detective, I’d like to know why Mr. Pendelton is so eager to enter my home," I countered, looking directly at the lawyer. "He hasn't stepped foot on this property since my father's funeral six years ago."
Pendelton adjusted his silk tie, taking a step forward onto the dry stone of the porch. "Nathan, let’s not play games. The firm received a communication late last night—an extortion attempt from a mentally unstable woman claiming to possess genetic material tied to your old medical vault. We suspect she may have abandoned a child nearby to fabricate a paternity claim against the Carter Trust. I am here to protect you from a fraudulent spectacle."
A cold, dark fury lit up behind my ribs, but I kept my face entirely impassive. Clara’s letter had been right. They knew. They were already framing her as an extortionist to invalidate Leo's existence before the ink on his birth record was even dry.
"Extortion?" I echoed coolly. "Fascinating. And how did this woman access a high-security cryopreservation vault in Manhattan without board authorization, Arthur?"
Pendelton’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. "That is precisely what our internal investigation is determining. In the meantime, if the child is inside, state protocol requires Detective Martinez to take immediate custody of the infant as a ward of the state pending genetic verification. You cannot legally hold an unidentified minor."
"Actually, Arthur, he can," a loud, booming voice called out from behind the blue sedan.
A sleek black Mercedes SUV had pulled up behind Martinez’s car, its tires spraying wet gravel. The driver’s door opened, and Julian Vance—my personal attorney, top-tier trial lawyer, and ironically, Arthur Pendelton’s estranged nephew—stepped out into the rain holding a leather folio.
Julian strode up the steps, nodding once to me before turning a scowl toward his uncle. "Hello, Arthur. Still chasing ambulances and trust funds on Sunday mornings?"
"Julian," Pendelton sneered. "This is an official CPS inquiry. You have no standing here."
"I have every standing," Julian shot back, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me. "I am Nathan Carter’s retained personal counsel. Detective Martinez, my client is currently acting under the provisions of the Connecticut Safe Haven Emergency Care Act while simultaneously preparing emergency custody filings. The infant inside is not an 'unidentified minor.' He is Leo Carter, Nathan’s biological son."
Detective Martinez looked between the three of us, her professional skepticism heightening. "Mr. Vance, a Safe Haven drop off must occur at a hospital or police station, not a private residence. Furthermore, paternity cannot be established verbally on a porch during a rainstorm."
"We have the clinical chain of custody documentation signed by Bridgeport Reproductive Medicine," Julian said, tapping his folio. "And more importantly, Nathan is the owner of the real property where the child was discovered abandoned in a state of life-threatening distress. Under state family code, he has a legal duty of care to secure the child while emergency medical evaluations are conducted on-site."
"On-site?" Pendelton scoffed. "This is absurd. The baby needs to be taken to Greenwich General immediately for a state-supervised medical workup!"
"My private physician, Dr. Harrison, is already en route," I interjected, stepping back toward the threshold. "He will perform a full pediatric evaluation right here in my home. Detective Martinez, you are welcome to step inside out of the rain, inspect the child’s living conditions, and observe the medical check. Arthur, you are trespassing. Leave my property before I have my security team physically remove you."
Pendelton’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. "Nathan, you are making a catastrophic mistake. You have no idea what web you are stepping into!"
"I think I’m beginning to understand it perfectly," I replied softly. "Get off my lawn, Arthur."
With a sharp glare at his nephew, Pendelton turned on his heel and marched back down the steps toward his car, splashing through the puddles without regard for his expensive shoes.
Detective Martinez wiped the rainwater from her face, looking at me with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "Mr. Carter, I am going to enter your home. I am going to verify the physical condition of both children. If I deem either of them to be in imminent danger or improperly cared for, I will exercise my emergency removal authority regardless of your lawyers. Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear, Detective," I said, opening the door wider. "Welcome to my home."
As Martinez stepped into the warm, marble foyer, I glanced up at the grand staircase. Standing behind the dark oak balustrade of the second-floor landing was Lily, her small face peering down through the wooden slats, holding a soft cotton blanket close to her chest.
May you like
I caught her eye and gave her a single, firm nod.
She didn't know it yet, but the little girl who had spent two weeks hiding in an abandoned laundry room was never going to be cold, hungry, or alone ever again.
