Chapter 5 - The Shattered Return
Owen stepped out of his vehicle, carrying the cake box in one hand.
As he walked up the brick pathway, he noticed something strange. The lawn was crisscrossed with yellow tape.
He stopped, frowning. "What the hell?"
When he reached the front porch, his heart dropped into his stomach.
The heavy oak front door was hanging off one hinge. The stained-glass sidebar was completely obliterated, jagged shards glistening in the afternoon sun. Bloodstains, dried and dark, smeared the white doorframe and the concrete steps.
"Natalie?" Owen called out, his smug composure instantly fracturing into panic. "Natalie! What did you do?!"
He stepped over the broken glass into the foyer. The house was cold, dark, and silent. Rain had damaged the hardwood floors.
Before he could step further, two black-and-white sheriff's cruisers pulled into the driveway, tires screeching against the asphalt.
Deputy Vance and three armed officers stepped out, guns holstered but hands resting firmly on their belts.
"Owen Crane!" Deputy Vance called out, his voice booming across the quiet street. "Step away from the threshold and put your hands where we can see them!"
Owen spun around, holding up the bakery box defensively. "What is the meaning of this?! Someone broke into my house! My wife is missing!"
"Your wife isn't missing, Mr. Crane," Deputy Vance said, advancing up the steps with handcuffs already drawn. "She’s in the hospital recovery ward, where she’s been for forty-eight hours after giving birth to your daughter."
Owen blinked, stun washing over his face. "She... she had the baby? But... she was just exaggerating..."
"You locked a thirty-eight-week pregnant woman inside a house with no phone service during a severe storm," Deputy Vance said coldly, grabbing Owen's arm and twisting it behind his back. "She had to use a cast-iron poker to break through reinforced glass while in active labor to save her life and the life of your child."
Snap.
The steel handcuffs locked around Owen’s wrists. The bakery box tumbled from his hand, hitting the pavement. The delicate red velvet cake crushed inside the dirt.
"Hey! Get your hands off me!" Owen yelled, struggling against the restraint. "Do you know who I am?! I’m Owen Crane! My mother is Gloria Crane! You can't arrest me!"
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"You are under arrest for felony false imprisonment, domestic abuse with extreme indifference to human life, and child endangerment," Deputy Vance said, shoving Owen toward the back seat of the patrol car. "And trust me, Mr. Crane... your mother's name isn't going to save you from what's coming."
Neighbour heads popped out of nearby windows. Cell phones were raised, recording the high-profile arrest of Cedar Falls' golden boy being stuffed into the back of a police cruiser in broad daylight.
