Chapter 69 - The Altar of Pious Lies
Pastor Luke cleared his throat nervously, his gaze shifting from Clara to the laminated court order in my hands.
"Clara, sister, what is she talking about?" the pastor murmured, lowering his silver bible by several inches.
"Pay no attention to her lies, Luke!" Clara snarled, shoving the pastor aside with her elbow in front of twenty witnesses.
"She manufactured those papers on a home computer to rob her own mother of her rightful inheritance!"
She took two aggressive steps up the porch stairs, pointing a manicured, trembling finger straight into my face.
"I gave you life, Riley Vance!" she hissed, her breath smelling of peppermint and bitter bile.
"I clothed you, I put you in private Christian schools, and you rewarded me by turning my father against me on his deathbed!"
"You stole his affection, you stole his estate, and now you stand here acting like the lady of the manor!"
"You gave me life so you could use me as a tax deduction and an emotional punching bag," I replied without blinking.
"You put me in private schools because the tuition was billed directly to grandfather’s offshore timber dividends."
"And the only reason you want Blackwood Lake right now is because the federal tax auditors are arriving at your parish office tomorrow morning."
Clara stopped dead on the fourth step, her jaw dropping open as if I had struck her across the face with an iron pipe.
Her fingers curled into tight claws inside her wool gloves, the fabric straining against her manicured nails.
"Where did you hear that name?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rising mountain wind.
"You think Zurich doesn't verify bank routing numbers when someone tries to wire two million dollars out of an estate account?" I asked.
She lunged forward, trying to grab the papers from my hand, but I stepped back smoothly into the entryway.
"Deacons! Break the door down and throw her in the dirt!" Clara shrieked, completely dropping every shred of Christian gentility.
"I don't care if she bleeds, get her off my property and throw her bags into the ditch right now!"
The church women gasped in horror at her language, several of them backing away toward the vans with wide, terrified eyes.
The two burly men hesitated, realizing that this was no longer a peaceful church relocation project.
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It was a violent crime being committed in broad daylight, and their holy matriarch was unraveling before their very eyes.
Before anyone could cross the threshold, the low rumble of four high-powered engines echoed down the valley road.
