Chapter 9 - The Shadows of Vance
Three days had passed since the night of Victoria's arrest.
The storm over the Sterling Manor had cleared, giving way to a crisp, pale autumn morning. Bright sunlight streamed through the high glass double doors, illuminating the white marble foyer, which had been scrubbed clean of every muddy footprint and water stain.
Richard sat in his private study on the second floor. The room was lined with dark walnut bookshelves, smelling of old paper, leather, and fresh cedar wood smoke from the small fireplace in the corner.
On the heavy oak desk before him lay a thick manila folder marked STATE V. VANCE & STERLING.
Beside the folder was a hot cup of black coffee and a small, gold-framed photograph of his late wife, Sarah, smiling on a beach in Italy four years ago.
A knock sounded at the study door.
"Come in," Richard said, closing the folder.
Detective Miller walked into the room, wearing his heavy wool overcoat, carrying a steaming paper coffee cup.
"Morning, Richard," Miller said, taking a seat in one of the leather armchairs across from the desk. "Thought I'd drop off the updated indictment papers personally."
"How is she?" Richard asked, his tone neutral.
"Victoria isn't talking anymore," Miller replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Her lawyer is trying to plead temporary insanity, claiming severe psychological coercion by Julian Vance. But with that recording you gave us, the prosecutor isn't offering any plea deals. She's looking at life without parole."
Richard nodded slowly, looking at the photograph of Sarah. "And Vance?"
May you like
Miller's face darkened slightly. He set his coffee cup down on the desk.
"That's actually why I came by in person," Miller said, leaning forward. "Vance's legal team is good, Richard. Very good. They're trying to claim that the bank transfers from Canada were legitimate consulting fees paid by Sarah before she died."
