Chapter 4 - The Arrest at Bellweather
The quiet that followed the departure of the Vance family was suffocating. Downstairs, the muffled sound of hushed conversations and the sudden shuffle of footsteps signaled that guests were realizing something was terribly wrong. Word was spreading through the two hundred people sitting in the manicured gardens below that the wedding of the season had just disintegrated.
Lauren remained on the floor, staring blankly at the polished mahogany threshold where Marcus had stood moments ago. Her veil was crooked, torn at the comb where she had pulled at it in her panic.
Mom was pacing frantically, digging her fingernails into her palms. "What have you done, Claire? What have you done?! You just destroyed your sister’s life!"
"She destroyed her own life when she crossed my threshold to steal from Lily," I said, my voice deadpan as I pulled out my phone once more.
Mom lunged across the room, snatching at my wrists. "Who are you calling?! Are you crazy?!"
"I'm calling the police, Mom," I said, twisting my arm out of her grip. "Forty-two thousand dollars is grand larceny. A felony."
"You can't call the police on your own sister!" Mom shrieked, her voice rising to a shrill, manic pitch. "She’s family! Family doesn't put family in prison!"
"Family doesn't starve a child of her medical care so she can play princess for eight hours!" I yelled back, the tears I had been holding in finally bursting through. "Where was 'family' when she took my grandmother's box? Where was 'family' when she watched me work three double shifts in a row at the ICU until my feet were bleeding, knowing she had my savings in her closet?!"
"Claire, please," Lauren whispered from the floor, her voice hollow, all the fiery rage replaced by a sudden, chilling realization of what was coming. "Don't call them. Please. I’ll give you the dress. We can return the dress, we can return the decorations... we can get some of the money back..."
"The dress is tailored and covered in your mascara, Lauren," I said, dialing 911 and placing the phone to my ear. "It’s worthless. Just like your promises."
Within fifteen minutes, the heavy siren blares of police cruisers echoed down the long gravel driveway of Bellweather Manor. The guests who hadn't already left were gathered near the fountain in the front courtyard, watching in absolute fascination as two marked police cars pulled up to the grand entrance.
Two officers, a senior officer named Sergeant Miller and a younger female officer, walked up the grand staircase. Marcus had met them at the front gate to explain the situation before driving away with his parents, ensuring the authorities had immediate access to the private property.
Sergeant Miller stepped into the bridal suite, taking in the scene with the practiced eyes of a veteran cop. "Claire Miller?" he asked, looking at me.
"Yes," I said, holding Lily tight. "I am the owner of the stolen property, officer. Here is the video footage from my home security system showing the suspect entering my house on October 12th without authorization and leaving with my property."
I handed him my phone. Sergeant Miller watched the video twice, nodding slowly. He looked over at Lauren, who was sitting on the sofa, clutching a sofa cushion to her chest like a child.
"Is that you in the video, ma'am?" Miller asked Lauren directly.
Lauren didn't answer. She just wept quietly, her shoulders shaking.
Mom stepped in front of the officer. "Officer, this is a private family matter! My daughter was going to repay the money! It’s not a crime if it’s a family loan!"
"Ma'am, unless there is a signed loan agreement and the victim agrees it was a loan, taking forty-two thousand dollars in cash and negotiable securities from someone else's residence without consent is grand theft," Sergeant Miller said sternly. He turned to his partner. "Officer Davis, read her her rights."
The female officer stepped forward, pulling out a pair of steel handcuffs.
"No! No! Get away from me!" Lauren screamed, fighting back as Officer Davis pulled her hands behind her back. The sharp click-clack of the metal cuffs locking over her wrists sounded like a gunshot in the luxurious room.
"Lauren Sterling, you are under arrest for grand larceny in the third degree and breaking and entering," Officer Davis recited calmly as she escorted the crying bride out of the room.
The march of shame down the grand staircase of Bellweather Manor was witnessed by fifty remaining guests, the caterers, the florists, and the photographer, whose camera was still slung around his neck. Lauren, wearing a three-thousand-dollar ruined wedding dress and steel handcuffs, was led through the marble foyer and pushed into the back of a police cruiser.
Mom ran after the car, screaming Lauren’s name until her voice gave out.
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I stood at the top of the grand stairs, holding my daughter. Lily looked up at me, touching her ear. "Mommy... is Aunty Lauren going away?"
I kissed her soft cheek, feeling the warm sunshine breaking through the courtyard trees. "Yes, baby," I whispered. "Aunty Lauren is going away. But we're going to be okay."
