Chapter 5 - THE TRIBUNAL OF ASHESThe sirens of the Charleston Fire Department and the Charleston Police Department shrieked through the oak-lined streets of our neighborhood, their red and blue lights flashing violently against the smoke-filled sky.
Neighbors spilled out onto their lawns in pajamas, gasping as the roof of the historic Carter estate collapsed in a shower of sparks.
Eleanor stood near the front gate, wrapped in a white blanket provided by a paramedic, wiping tears from her eyes as she put on her final, desperate performance for the gathering crowd.
"My son... my poor son and his wife were inside!" Eleanor wailed loudly to the lead police captain, Captain Miller. "I tried to save them! The fire started in the kitchen... I couldn't get to the storage room!"
"Ma'am, stay calm," Captain Miller said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Our officers are preparing to enter as soon as the fire crew suppresses the main blaze."
"It's too late!" Eleanor sobbed into her handkerchief. "They’re gone! My sweet boy David... he’s gone!"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mother."
The crowd fell completely silent.
Eleanor froze.
Slowly, turned her head toward the side garden gate.
I walked out onto the driveway, covered in black soot and dirt, my arm wrapped protectively around Emily. Behind us, leaning heavily on a wooden staff, walked Julian Carter—looking like a ghost risen from the grave.
Eleanor dropped her handkerchief. Her face turned a sickening shade of grey, her jaw hanging open in utter horror.
"D-David...?" she whispered, backing away into the side of the ambulance.
"Captain Miller," I said clearly, stepping up to the lead officer. "I am David Carter. This is my wife, Emily, and this is my father, Julian Carter."
Captain Miller blinked, staring at my father in utter disbelief. "Julian... Carter? The man who died in the 1996 plane crash?!"
"I didn't die in a plane crash, Captain," Julian spoke up, his voice ringing loud and clear across the entire neighborhood. "Thirty years ago, Eleanor Carter drugged me, faked my death, and imprisoned me in a subterranean vault beneath that house so she could steal my estate and control my son."
Gasps erupted from the dozens of high-society neighbors standing along the sidewalk.
"That's a lie!" Eleanor screamed, her voice cracking into a terrifying screech. "He’s an imposter! A crazy vagrant they found in the woods! David, tell them! Tell them she’s manipulating you!"
I looked down at Eleanor with cold, unyielding disgust.
I pulled out my phone—which had been automatically recording our conversation in the tunnel via my cloud server—and handed it directly to Captain Miller.
"Captain," I said smoothly. "On this recording, you will hear my mother admit to drugging me, locking my pregnant wife in a storage room, holding my father captive for thirty years, and deliberately setting fire to a historic home to murder us all."
Captain Miller listened to the audio file for less than sixty seconds before his face turned into a mask of pure steel.
He turned to his officers.
"Arrest Eleanor Carter," Captain Miller commanded. "Charges: three counts of attempted first-degree murder, kidnapping, arson, and thirty years of unlawful imprisonment."
As two officers stepped forward and snapped heavy steel handcuffs around Eleanor’s wrists, she began screaming wildly, kicking her feet, her immaculate hair ruined, her high-society mask shattered forever in front of every family in Charleston.
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"DAVID! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! I AM YOUR MOTHER! I CREATED YOU!" she shrieked as she was shoved into the back of the police cruiser.
I turned my back on her screams, wrapping my coat around Emily’s shoulders, holding her tight against my chest.
