Chapter 3 - The Heavy Knock
The rhythmic pounding on the heavy oak front door echoed through the manor like a gunshot. Everyone in the hallway froze. Clara clutched the amber vial tightly in her fist, her knuckles aching from the pressure. Eleanor remained on her knees on the grey carpet, her chest heaving as she assessed her escape routes. On Arthur's lap, Lily quieted her sobbing, wiping her tear-streaked face with the sleeve of her blue school cardigan.
"Open up! Police! We have a warrant!" a booming male voice commanded from the other side of the heavy wood.
Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs. He had never called the authorities, nor had Clara, judging by the genuine shock widening the nurse's eyes. If Arthur didn't answer or authorize entry, the police would break the door down within seconds. He looked down at Eleanor, whose expression shifted from panic to a terrifying, cryptic smirk.
"You invited them?" Arthur asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of betrayal and confusion.
"You think I'm stupid enough to call the cops on myself?" Eleanor sneered, effortlessly pushing herself up from the floor. She smoothed down her black skirt with chilling composure, as if she hadn't just been thrashing on the ground a moment before. "That's Detective Miller out there. And he’s here because I filed a missing person and elder abuse report against your lovely nurse yesterday afternoon."
Clara dropped the medical clipboard again, her jaw hitting the floor. "You did what?"
"You heard me," Eleanor purred, stepping gracefully over the fallen papers. "A disgruntled employee stealing medication from her wealthy employer. It's an open-and-shut case. By the time the officers cuff you, Arthur will be resting peacefully in bed—permanently."
Before Clara could lunge at her, the front door splintered inward with a loud crash. Heavy boots thudded against the foyer tile. Two uniform officers and a tall detective in a gray tweed jacket surged into the hallway, hands resting cautiously on their holster straps. Detective Miller scanned the chaotic scene: the crying child, the paralyzed man in the wheelchair, the furious woman adjusting her blouse, and the nurse holding a suspicious amber vial.
"Police! Nobody move!" Detective Miller barked, drawing his notepad. His eyes locked directly onto Clara, who stood frozen with the poison bottle in her hand. "Drop the vial, miss. Put your hands where I can see them."
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Arthur tried to lift his arm to interject, but his paralysis locked his muscles in place. He watched in slow-motion horror as the barrel of the detective's flashlight pointed straight at Clara's chest.
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