Chapter 7 - The Cleansing of Hemlock Ridge
While Nolan was selling his Rolex Submariner to a pawn shop on Duval Street for a fraction of its value just to buy three bus tickets and cheap coach airfare, Audrey was walking through the Hemlock Ridge house in a pair of soft wool slippers.
The house was warm.
The radiant hydronic floor heating hummed silently beneath the white oak planks. In the kitchen, a private chef Audrey had hired through a boutique agency was preparing a slow-simmered bone broth and roasted root vegetables designed to aid postpartum recovery.
Lila was resting in a cream-colored electric swing by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, her dark blue eyes watching the amber autumn leaves drift lazily down from the canopy of mountain maples.
The house had changed.
Every trace of Nolan’s aggressive, hyper-modern aesthetic had been stripped away. In its place were the family heirlooms Audrey had kept in climate-controlled storage for four years: her father’s antique leather-bound books on architecture and forestry, her grandmother’s hand-woven Appalachian quilts, and oil paintings of the French Broad River executed by local artists.
Marcus Vance was sitting at the island counter, sipping black coffee.
“The sheriff’s department has stationed a patrol car at the base of the private drive,” Marcus said, reviewing an email on his phone. “Judge Holloway’s restraining order has been entered into the statewide law enforcement telecommunications system. The second Nolan or any member of his family crosses the cattle guard at the lower gate, they will be arrested for criminal trespassing and violation of a domestic protection order.”
Audrey stirred a spoonful of raw mountain honey into her chamomile tea. “Did you locate the pawn shop in Key West?”
Elena Ruiz, who was sitting beside Marcus, smiled with quiet admiration. “Our private investigator in Florida confirmed it an hour ago. Nolan pawned his Submariner and Beverly sold two diamond rings at a shop called Duval Gold & Diamond. They used the cash to purchase three standby tickets on an Allegiant Air flight into Charlotte, arriving tomorrow morning at 11:00 AM.”
“And how are they getting from Charlotte to Asheville?” Audrey asked.
“Trevor had eighty dollars left in a Venmo account,” Elena said. “They rented a base-model Nissan Versa from an off-brand agency near the airport. If the car doesn’t break down on the climb up Old Fort Mountain, they should reach the ridge around 2:00 PM.”
Audrey looked out the window toward the heavy iron gates that stood a quarter-mile down the private asphalt drive.
“He thinks he’s coming back to negotiate,” Audrey said softly. “He thinks he’s going to walk up those steps, throw his hands in the air, give me that charming, crooked smile, and tell me that we both made mistakes.”
“He has no idea what’s waiting for him,” Marcus agreed.
“Make sure the security team is in position by noon,” Audrey said, setting down her teacup. “And Marcus?”
“Yes, Audrey?”
“I want the process server to wait until he tries the door.”
Marcus chuckled—a low, rumbling sound that sounded like gravel grinding together. “You have your father’s sense of drama, Audrey.”
May you like
“No,” Audrey said, looking over at Lila, whose tiny hand was curled around the edge of her blanket. “My father would have let him off with a settlement. I am a mother now. And a mother does not negotiate with the predator who locked her child out in the cold.”
***
