Chapter 7: The Journey to Frankfort
The black sedan carved its way through the winding, tree-lined roads of the Bluegrass Parkway, the rolling horse farms flashing by in a blur of emerald green and white wooden fences. Isabella sat in the passenger seat, watching the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers clear away the light morning mist. Julian kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the asphalt ahead, his mind racing through every possible scenario they might encounter at the state capital.
"Are they going to arrest Eleanor?" Isabella asked breaking the long silence as they crossed the bridge over the Kentucky River.
"If the attorney general reviews this ledger, yes," Julian answered carefully, glancing sideways at his daughter with a reassuring expression. "They will freeze her accounts, issue warrants, and investigate every property she and Arthur have acquired over the past decade. It’s airtight, Isabella. They won't be able to talk their way out of this."
"And what about Mom?" Isabella’s voice dropped to a fragile whisper, the question hanging in the air like a heavy mist. "Do you think we'll find her?"
Julian’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles whitened. He had asked himself that same question every single day since Clara went missing. The police had searched the surrounding forests, the riverbanks, and the abandoned quarries, turning up nothing. But seeing the ruthless desperation in Eleanor and Arthur’s eyes last night gave Julian a grim new perspective. If they had gone to such extremes to hide financial documents, what else had they hidden?
"I don't know, sweetheart," Julian said honestly, his voice softening. "But if she’s out there, or if there’s a trace of where they took her, this trip to Frankfort is our best chance to find out. We won't stop looking until we know the whole truth."
They drove in silence for another twenty minutes before the imposing limestone architecture of the state capital building came into view, rising majestically above the tree line. Julian pulled the sedan into a visitor parking space near the Department of Justice entrance, cutting the engine. He turned to Isabella, offering a small, tired smile.
May you like
"Stay in the car and keep the doors locked," Julian instructed gently, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I’m going inside to speak with the senior investigator directly. I should be back in twenty minutes."
Isabella nodded, watching as her father stepped out into the crisp morning air and walked purposefully toward the grand stone steps. She locked the doors from the inside, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself as she watched the steady stream of government workers filing in and out of the building. For a brief moment, the overwhelming weight of the past year seemed to lift, replaced by the distinct possibility of justice.
