Chapter 5 - The Trap Snaps Shut
"You shouldn't have been listening, Annie," Eleanor Vance whispered, her voice dropping into a flat, lifeless rhythm that was infinitely more terrifying than her previous shouting.
Annie tried to pull her wrist free, but Eleanor held her with the surprising, desperate strength of a woman protecting her entire life's work.
"Mrs. Vance, please," Annie begged, her heart pounding against her ribs. "You don't have to do this. Mr. Whitmore trusts you! He’s let you manage his home for fifteen years!"
"Fifteen years!" Eleanor spat, a sudden flash of bitter rage breaking through her cold exterior. "Fifteen years of picking up after his cruel, spoiled daughter! Fifteen years of working eighteen-hour days so Arthur Whitmore can fly around the world buying shipping fleets while my nephew sits in a secondary office earning scraps! Julian deserves that money! He earned it!"
Eleanor reached into her apron pocket with her free hand and pulled out a small, velvet-lined jewelry box. With a quick snap of her thumb, she opened it.
Inside lay a massive, tear-drop-shaped diamond pendant attached to a platinum chain—the Star of Lyon, a famous Whitmore family heirloom worth over six hundred thousand dollars, usually kept in the secure display safe in Arthur’s private dressing room.
Annie’s eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
"Miss Victoria said you’d be a problem," Eleanor said softly. "I told her she was being paranoid about a eighteen-year-old temp. But she was right. You just couldn't keep your eyes down and sweep the floor, could you?"
Eleanor roughly shoved the velvet box into the pocket of Annie’s navy dress.
"No!" Annie struggled frantically, trying to push Eleanor’s hands away, but Eleanor twisted Annie’s arm behind her back, pinning her against the edge of the heavy mahogany desk.
"HELP!" Annie screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the vast vaulted space of the library. "SOMEONE HELP!"
"Scream all you like, little girl," Eleanor hissed near her ear, her breath smelling of stale coffee and mints. "The staff is downstairs prepping for the gala departure. No one can hear you up here."
Eleanor reached for the desk phone, pulled off her white cotton glove, and picked up the receiver, pressing the internal speed-dial for security.
"Security? This is Mrs. Vance," Eleanor said into the receiver, her voice instantly transforming into a breathy, terrified gasp. "I need security to the third-floor library immediately! I’ve just caught the new maid, Annie Carter, breaking into Mr. Whitmore’s desk safe! She has the Star of Lyon in her possession! Hurry!"
Eleanor slammed the receiver down, dropped her master keys onto the floor, and deliberately pulled at her own collar, tearing two buttons off her blouse to make it look as though a violent struggle had taken place.
"You're insane," Annie choked out, tears of frustration and terror finally bursting from her eyes. "I have photos on my phone! I took photos of the forged documents!"
Eleanor’s eyes locked onto Annie’s apron pocket.
"Did you?" Eleanor murmured.
Before Annie could react, Eleanor snatched the old smartphone out of Annie’s apron pocket. Without a moment's hesitation, Eleanor strode across the library toward the grand stone fireplace, where a low, roaring wood fire had been lit to cut the autumn chill.
"NO!" Annie shrieked, wrenching herself free from the desk and lunging forward.
Eleanor threw the smartphone directly into the center of the roaring logs.
The plastic casing melted almost instantly, the lithium battery letting out a bright blue pop and a hiss of dark, acrid smoke as the screen shriveled into black ash.
Annie dropped to her knees on the hearth rug, staring into the flames in absolute despair. Her evidence—her only shield, her only proof, her only hope of saving herself and her mother—was gone.
Heavy, rushing footsteps echoed down the marble hallway outside.
The double doors of the library burst open. Two heavy-set, uniformed estate security guards rushed into the room, their hands resting on their holstered sidearms, followed closely by Victoria Whitmore and Julian Vance.
Victoria stepped over the threshold, a looks of triumph illuminating her face as she looked down at Annie kneeling by the fire.
"What happened?" the head security guard demanded.
"She attacked me!" Eleanor cried out, leaning heavily against the oak desk, clutching her torn collar. "I caught her going through Mr. Whitmore’s private drawers! When I tried to stop her, she shoved me and shoved the heirloom into her dress pocket!"
The security guard marched over to Annie, grabbed her roughly by her upper arm, and hauled her to her feet. Without ceremony, he plunged his gloved hand into her dress pocket and pulled out the velvet-lined box.
He opened it. The Star of Lyon caught the firelight, burning with brilliant, icy flashes of diamond light.
"Is this the piece from the master's safe?" the guard asked.
"Yes," Victoria said, stepping forward, her voice filled with haughty disgust. "That is my mother's necklace. I knew we couldn't trust this trash the moment she opened her mouth yesterday."
Victoria walked right up to Annie, her sharp eyes gleaming with pure malice.
"You thought you were special because my father felt sorry for you for five minutes?" Victoria whispered, leaning in close while the guard held Annie’s arms pinned behind her back. "I told you yesterday that you wouldn't clean another room in Connecticut. Now you’re going to spend the next ten years in a state penitentiary."
Annie looked at Victoria, then at Eleanor, then at Julian Vance, who was standing near the door with a calm, smug smile playing on his lips.
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She had no phone. She had no evidence. She had no status, no money, and no voice that anyone in authority would ever believe over the word of Victoria Whitmore and her head housekeeper.
"Take her down to the security office," Victoria commanded the guard. "Call the Stamford Police Department. Tell them we have an active grand larceny suspect in custody."
