Chapter 7 - The Red Ledger Unveiled
"What move?" Isold asked, immediately leaning forward.
Detective Miller opened the manila folder, revealing bank wire interception transcripts stamped by the United States Marshals Service.
"At 7:15 this morning, someone using Evelyn Vance's social security number attempted to access an offshore custodial account registered through a boutique private bank in Wilmington, Delaware," Miller explained. "It was an old contingency fund your grandfather set up thirty years ago—one that Harold didn't have direct access to, but Evelyn thought she could unlock using an old signature card."
"Did they get the money?" I asked.
"Not a cent," Miller said. "Isold’s freeze notice was already sitting on the compliance officer's desk. The bank flagged the transaction and stalled them on the line for twenty-two minutes while our cyber-crimes unit traced the IP address."
"Where are they?"
"A budget motel near the marina district in Cape May," Miller said, snapping the folder shut. "Harold has a thirty-eight-foot cabin cruiser docked at the harbor there. He bought it six years ago through a shell company. He thinks he can refuel, slip past the Coast Guard station, and make international waters toward the Bahamas."
"That boat hasn't been serviced in two years," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. "He only used it to show off to his country club associates. He barely knows how to navigate open water."
"Desperate men don't make smart nautical decisions," Miller replied. "The Marshals and the state police have already locked down the marina. We’re moving in to execute the arrest warrants within the hour."
"I want to be there," I blurted out.
Isold immediately shook her head. "Absolutely not. You just had major reconstructive bone surgery, you have an open wound, and Genevieve needs you."
"Genevieve will be safe here with Mrs. Gable, who is already on her way up to the pediatric ward," I said, looking Detective Miller dead in the eye. "Detective, Harold Vance has spent my entire life making me feel small, weak, and powerless. He looked me in the eye while I was bleeding on the ground, called me a parasite, and broke my leg with a shovel. I want him to see me standing—or sitting in a wheelchair—when his empire collapses."
Miller looked at me for a long, quiet moment. He had seen hundreds of victims crumble under trauma, but he recognized the steel in my voice.
"The tactical team will handle the breach," Miller said slowly. "You stay inside the command vehicle with me. You don't step foot on the dock until he is in irons."
"Deal," I said.
May you like
Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Gable arrived, wrapping Genevieve in a warm, motherly hug. I kissed my daughter, promising her that when I returned, the monsters would never, ever be able to hurt us again.
With the help of two nurses, I was transferred into a heavy-duty transport wheelchair, an IV pain pump secured to my arm, a thick blanket draped over my cast.
