Allegedly

Chapter 14: A Meal to Remember

The flashing lights of the North West Police Department cars illuminated the driveway, casting eerie reflections against the windows of Emma’s ranch house. Rowan stood at the edge of the porch, watching as two officers guided Emma toward one of the cars, her wrists bound by cold, steel cuffs. Emma’s face remained calm, though there was a sadness in her expression that tugged at Rowan’s heart.

She had known this was coming. After her confession about Charles’s death, it was only a matter of time before the police acted. But even knowing it was inevitable didn’t make the sight of Emma being led away any easier to bear.

Detective Navarro approached Rowan, her face grim but professional. "We’re taking Emma in for questioning. Given her confession, we’ll be charging her with first-degree murder in the death of her husband. But this investigation isn’t over. We’ll continue looking into Marcus’s murder as well."

Rowan nodded, his chest tight with worry. "And Marcus? Do you think Emma could be involved in that too?"

Navarro frowned, her gaze thoughtful. "It’s possible, but the evidence we have so far doesn’t point to Emma. We’re still looking at everyone in the house. No one’s off the hook yet."

Rowan felt a chill run down his spine. He had been so focused on Emma’s confession about Charles that he hadn’t stopped to consider what it meant for the investigation into Marcus’s death. If Emma wasn’t responsible, then someone else in the house was. And until they figured out who, the danger wasn’t over.

As the police car pulled away, Rowan turned and headed back into the house. The air inside felt heavy, thick with tension and grief. Yuthika was in the kitchen, her hands busy preparing dinner, though Rowan could see the sadness in her eyes. Ada sat quietly at the dining table, her head resting on her hands, while Hui stood by the window, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Rowan took a deep breath, trying to push aside the growing sense of dread. There were too many questions left unanswered, and Emma’s arrest only complicated things further.

---

Dinner’s ready.

As the evening crept on, Yuthika called everyone to the dining table, her warm voice breaking the silence that had settled over the house. "Dinner’s ready," she said, her tone softer than usual. "I thought we could all use a good meal after... everything."

Rowan, Ada, Cecilia, and Hui gathered around the large oak table, which had once hosted family gatherings filled with laughter and conversation. Now, the mood was somber, and the weight of Emma’s absence hung in the air like a dark cloud.

The aromas of cumin, turmeric, and ginger filled the room as Yuthika placed dish after dish on the table. She had prepared a feast of traditional Indian food—butter chicken, aloo gobi (a spicy potato and cauliflower dish), basmati rice, and naan. Despite the heavy mood, the sight and smell of the food brought a sense of comfort to the table.

Yuthika smiled gently as she served each plate, her voice filled with a quiet reverence. "Emma and I used to cook together in this kitchen sometimes. She wasn’t very good at it, but she loved trying new things. I remember showing her how to make roti once, and we ended up laughing so hard when she tried to flip the bread and it flew right off the pan."

Ada chuckled softly, her eyes brightening with the memory. "I remember that. She tried to play it off like it was part of the plan, but she was always so clumsy in the kitchen."

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Rowan’s lips as he listened. It was strange to hear these stories—little moments of normalcy and joy that Emma had shared with the people in this house. For so long, Rowan had seen the ranch as a place of shadows and secrets, but now, with Yuthika’s words, he could picture the warmth that had once filled these walls.

As they ate, Yuthika continued to talk, her voice carrying a soft nostalgia as she described the ranch house in detail, painting a picture of its beauty and history. "This place," she said, her eyes drifting toward the large windows that looked out over the sprawling fields, "has always felt like it’s alive. Every corner of it has a story."

She gestured toward the old fireplace in the living room. "That fireplace over there? Emma said it was built by her grandfather, stone by stone. She used to sit there for hours, just listening to the crackle of the fire. It’s where she felt most at peace."

Rowan’s gaze followed Yuthika’s, his mind drifting back to the countless evenings he’d spent in this house, never fully understanding the depth of its history. The grand living room, with its high ceilings and worn leather furniture, had once been a place of comfort. The large bay windows offered a view of the endless Texas landscape, the wide, open fields stretching toward the horizon.

"And the upstairs bedrooms," Yuthika continued, her voice softer now. "Each one has its own little quirks. Emma’s room always had the best light in the mornings—she loved waking up to the sound of the birds outside her window."

Cecilia nodded, her face distant as she remembered her own childhood in the house. "I used to play in the attic," she said quietly. "It always felt like a secret world up there. Like a place where no one could find me."

Rowan listened in silence, the weight of the house’s history settling over him like a heavy blanket. There was something beautiful about the way Yuthika spoke of the ranch, something that made him see it in a new light. But at the same time, the memories only made the present situation more heartbreaking.

Emma had wanted to live out her final years in this house, surrounded by the people she cared about. And now, she was sitting in a police station, charged with the murder of a man who had tormented her for years. The ranch, once a place of peace and sanctuary, was now the site of a murder investigation that had torn the family apart.

As the meal continued, Rowan found himself thinking about the discovery of the gloves in the stables. He still didn’t know who had left them there, but the timing was too perfect to be a coincidence. Someone in the house had killed Marcus—and they were still hiding the truth.

Rowan’s gaze shifted to Hui, who was eating in silence, his face set in an expression of detached calm. Hui had always been calculating, always in control. But Rowan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

"Yuthika," Rowan said, breaking the quiet that had settled over the table. "You’ve known Emma for a long time. Did she ever mention anything about Marcus? About his relationship with her husband?"

Yuthika glanced up, her expression thoughtful. "Not much," she admitted. "Emma always kept her past to herself. I knew Marcus was her lawyer, but she never talked about him like family. I didn’t know he was her stepson until all of this came out."

Rowan nodded, his mind spinning with possibilities. Marcus had been blackmailing Emma, but what else had he been hiding? And who had wanted him dead so badly that they were willing to leave behind a trail of clues?

As they finished dinner, Yuthika stood and began clearing the plates, her movements slow and deliberate. The warmth and comfort of the meal had done little to lift the heavy mood that hung over the house, but it had brought a brief moment of peace in the midst of the storm.

Rowan, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was far from over.