Chapter 13 - THE PRISON VISITOR
Z
The high-security visitor wing of the State Correctional Facility for Women smelled of stale industrial disinfectant, cheap floor wax, and damp stone. Heavy steel doors slammed shut with mechanical thuds that vibrated through the floorboards. I sat behind a thick sheet of bulletproof plexiglass, waiting under the buzzing fluorescent lights while a corrections officer escorted the inmate into the booth.
Victoria Vance looked completely transformed from the pristine, arrogant woman who had once pushed me down the stairs. Her blonde hair was cropped short and streaked with gray, stripped of high-end styling. Her prison jumpsuit hung loosely on her thin frame, and dark, hollow circles shadowed her sunken eyes. Yet, as she sat down and picked up the heavy plastic phone receiver, her eyes still flickered with that familiar, poisonous malice.
I picked up my receiver, holding it firmly against my ear.
“You look terrible, Victoria,” I said, keeping my tone flat and calm.
Victoria let out a dry, rattling laugh that turned into a wheezing cough. “And you look as arrogant as ever, Nora. Coming here to gloat? To see the old monster in her cage?”
“I came to ask you about Edward Thorne,” I said directly.
Victoria’s thin lips curled into a hideous, yellowed smile. She pressed her face closer to the glass, her dark eyes gleam with malicious delight. “Ah. So Edward has filed the papers. I was wondering how long it would take for his attorneys to strike.”
“You forged a twelve-million-dollar promissory note,” I said. “You used Donald Croft’s old seals before he was arrested, and you sold a fake debt claim to Arthur’s oldest enemy. Did you really think an offshore account would protect you?”
“I have thirty-five years in this hellhole, Nora!” Victoria hissed, her voice vibrating through the receiver like a coiled snake. “Do you think I care about another fraud charge? I’m sixty-two years old! I will die inside these walls! But do you know what keeps me warm at night in this cold cell? Knowing that Edward Thorne is going to tear that lake house down to the bedrock! He’s going to bulldoze Arthur’s gardens! He’s going to build a concrete casino parking lot over your grandfather’s favorite view! You didn't win, Nora. You just delayed the demolition!”
“Why Thorne?” I asked, leaning closer to the glass. “He ruined your own husband’s manufacturing business back in 1994. He drove your family into bankruptcy. Why align with the man who destroyed you?”
“Because he has power!” Victoria shrieked, her knuckles turning white around the phone receiver. “Because he can do what my idiot son failed to do! Julian was weak! He hesitated! He felt guilty! But Edward Thorne doesn't feel guilt, Nora. He’s going to strip you of every penny Arthur left you!”
I stared at her, feeling no fear—only a deep, profound pity for a woman whose entire existence had been consumed by jealousy and hatred.
“Thank you, Victoria,” I said quietly. “You’ve told me everything I needed to know.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, her smile faltering.
“You just confirmed on a recorded prison line that the promissory note was created to destroy the estate, not to settle a legitimate debt,” I said, pointing to the small digital recording light glowing red on the wall above us. “Every inmate call in this visitor room is monitored by the State Attorney General’s Office. Thank you for the confession.”
Victoria’s face drained of what little color it had left. She slammed her hand against the plexiglass, screaming curses, but I hung up the receiver, stood up, and walked out of the visitor room without looking back.
Two hours later, I arrived at the male correctional facility forty miles south.
Unlike his mother, Julian didn't look malicious when he was led into the meeting room. He looked broken. He wore a gray inmate jumpsuit, his jaw healed slightly crooked from where my skillet had struck him, leaving a faint scar near his chin. He sat down slowly, his head bowed, unable to look me in the eye.
“Nora,” he whispered into the phone receiver. “Why are you here? Eleanor’s assistants said you’d never speak to me again.”
“Edward Thorne has filed a twelve-million-dollar lien on the lake house,” I said calmly. “He’s using forged debt notes created by your mother.”
Julian flinched, closing his eyes tightly. “Thorne... God, Nora, I told Mom to stay away from him. Before I was arrested, when my restaurant was failing, Thorne’s associates came to me. They offered to buy out my restaurant debt if I gave them private access to Arthur’s legal trust files. They were tracking your grandfather for years before he died.”
“Did you take their offer, Julian?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet.
“No!” Julian insisted desperately, tears welling in his eyes. “I swear to you, Nora, I refused! I was stupid, I was selfish, and I let my mother control my life, but I knew Thorne was dangerous! He’s a monster! When I refused, my mother went behind my back. She took Arthur’s old ledgers from my apartment while I was at work and sold them to Thorne’s fixer, a man named Richard Vance!”
I listened carefully to the cadence of his voice. For the first time since I had met him, Julian wasn't lying to save himself. He was terrified.
“Julian,” I said softly. “If you want to earn a single drop of redemption for what you did to me, you need to tell me where those files were exchanged.”
Julian swallowed hard, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Mom kept a second, hidden flash drive. She didn't trust Thorne to pay her the offshore money. She hid an encrypted drive inside the spare tire of my old sports car—the one the bankruptcy court seized six months ago. It’s sitting in the county impound lot in East District. If the drive is still there, it contains recorded phone calls between Mom and Thorne’s attorney planning the forgery.”
I looked at Julian through the glass, seeing the scared, weak man he had always been beneath his handsome facade. “Thank you, Julian.”
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“Nora... wait!” Julian pleaded as I prepared to hang up. “Am I... am I ever going to be able to make things right?”
I looked at him for a long moment. “You can’t undo the stairs, Julian. You can’t undo forty-seven minutes of watching me suffer. But telling the truth today... it’s a start.”
