Our attorney, Samuel Greene, stepped out of the front passenger seat of the first cruiser.

He walked quickly up the porch steps, followed by three armed deputies.

“Step away from the child, Mrs. Lawson,” the lead deputy said, his hand resting on his holster.

Margaret did not move, her shoulders rigid.

“This is a private family matter,” Margaret said. “My son’s former wife is attempting to kidnap my grandson.”

“We have a warrant, Mrs. Lawson,” Samuel said, stepping into the cabin and handing a document to the deputy. “For grand theft, forgery, and felony medical fraud.”

The deputy looked at the paperwork, then at Margaret.

“Hands behind your back, ma’am,” the deputy said.

Arthur slowly raised his hands and stepped away.

Margaret sneered as the deputy pulled her arms behind her back.

The metallic click of the handcuffs locking into place was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

“This is a mistake,” Margaret said, her voice rising in pitch. “My lawyers will have this dismissed before morning.”

“I don’t think so,” Samuel said calmly. “The state attorney has already frozen your business assets pending the investigation into Westbridge.”