Chapter 16 - Face to Face
Trevor stared at the paper in his hands, then at Candace, whose hands were now completely free.
He took a frantic step backward, his eyes widening in sudden realization. “You... you set me up!”
He whipped the revolver toward Candace’s chest, his finger tightening on the trigger.
“TREVOR, DON'T!” Vanessa screamed, lunging forward and grabbing his gun arm with all her weight.
The sudden shift threw Trevor off balance. He roared in fury, throwing his elbow back and striking Vanessa across the cheek. She collapsed to the floor with a cry of pain, but the distraction was all Candace needed.
Candace didn't retreat. She stepped inside the arc of his arm, driving her palm hard upward against the bottom of Trevor’s nose with the full force of her body. Cartilage cracked with a sickening snap.
Trevor howled, stumbling back, clutching his face as blood gushed between his fingers. The revolver slipped from his grip, clattering across the floorboards and falling through a gap in the rotting planking into the dark crawlspace below.
Before Trevor could recover, the industrial floodlights mounted on the depot rafters snapped on with an ear-splitting hum, instantly bathing the entire warehouse in blinding, clinical white light.
*“FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP TO THE GROUND! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!”*
Agent Miller’s voice bellowed through an acoustic megaphone as half a dozen tactical officers in dark body armor burst through the sliding doors, their assault rifles raised, lasers painting crimson dots across Trevor’s chest.
Trevor raised his bloody hands, dropping to his knees, his chest heaving like a cornered animal. “Don't shoot! Don't shoot! I’m unarmed! She attacked me!”
Candace stood three feet away from him, breathing deeply, her posture tall and unyielding beneath the blinding lights.
Agent Miller stepped forward, his badge gleaming over his tactical vest. Two officers hauled Trevor onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel cuffs onto his wrists.
Trevor thrashed against the floorboards, screaming through the blood pooling in his mouth. “You have nothing on me! This was a domestic dispute! Vanessa brought me here! You can’t prove Sloan was working for me!”
Miller knelt beside Trevor, pulling a digital recorder from his vest pocket. He clicked the play button.
Trevor’s own voice echoed through the depot rafters:
*“...Do whatever you have to do to make sure she never talks to the police. Just make it look like an accident in the storm...”*
Trevor went completely limp against the wood, the color draining from his face until he looked like a corpse.
“Victor Sloan’s primary transport vehicle was intercepted at the southern toll plaza forty minutes ago,” Miller stated coolly. “Both of his drivers rolled on you the second our agents presented the weapon charges. Sloan is already singing your name to the federal prosecutor to cut his own deal, Vance. You’re done.”
Trevor looked up, his bloody eyes finding Candace. The arrogance was gone, replaced by the pathetic, weeping desperation of a broken narcissist.
“Candace... please,” Trevor whimpered, tears mixing with the crimson running down his chin. “Think of Leo. You can't let them send me to federal prison. Leo needs a father. Candace, look at me! I did this for our family! I wanted to give us our life back!”
Candace walked slowly toward him. She stopped just inches from where his face was pressed against the floorboards.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the small, worn velvet box she had kept with her since the morning she packed the nursery—the box Trevor had left on the kitchen island when he had returned home with diamonds for Vanessa.
Candace opened the box.
Inside was the silver heirloom rattle her father had given to Trevor on the day Leo was born, engraved with the words: *To the protector of my daughter and grandson.*
Candace dropped the rattle onto the floorboards right in front of Trevor’s face. It struck the wood with a sharp, final chime.
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“You were never his father, Trevor,” Candace said, her voice quiet, absolute, and devoid of hatred. “You were just the man who shared his name. And starting tomorrow, he won't even have that.”
***
