Chapter 9 - The Final Trial
The heavy iron doors of Bedford Federal Facility slid shut with a terrifying, absolute metallic clang.
I stood in the visiting room, separated from the prisoner by a wall of bulletproof glass.
Eleanor Vale sat on the stool opposite me. The custom wool suits and pearl necklaces were gone, replaced by a drab grey jumpsuit. Her hair had turned entirely silver, and her once-commanding frame looked small and fragile under the harsh fluorescent lights.
She picked up the plastic telephone receiver. I picked up mine.
“You came,” Eleanor said, her voice dry as dead leaves. “I thought you had forgotten your mother.”
“I came to give you something,” I said softly.
I pulled a small photographs from my jacket pocket and pressed it flat against the reinforced glass.
It was a picture of Maya’s third birthday party. She was wearing a tiny yellow crown, laughing as Claire held a cake with three lit candles. Behind them stood Detective Ortiz, Arthur Vance, and a dozen friends, all bathed in warm sunlight.
Eleanor stared at the photograph for a long time. A single, heavy tear escaped her eye, tracing a deep crease in her wrinkled cheek.
“She looks like your father,” Eleanor whispered, her voice cracking.
“She has his mark,” I said. “And she has her mother’s strength. She will grow up knowing that her father loved her, that her mother fought for her, and that the world is a good place.”
“Daniel...” Eleanor pressed her withered fingers against the glass, right over the photo. “I did it to protect the name... I thought she would destroy everything we built...”
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“You destroyed yourself, Eleanor,” I said, using her first name for the first time in my life. “You spent your whole life trying to control an empire, and now your empire is four concrete walls.”
I set the telephone receiver back onto its hook, turned my back on the woman who had brought me into the world, and walked out into the sunlight.
