Chapter 8 - Sirens at the Gate
As if on cue, the heavy double doors at the main entrance of the ballroom were thrown open.
The cold autumn wind rushed into the overheated hall, carrying with it the rhythmic, pulsing flash of red and blue emergency lights. The wail of sirens, which had been growing louder in the distance, died down to a low mechanical whine as three cruisers pulled up onto the venue's brick sidewalk.
Four uniformed officers marched into the room, their boots clicking rhythmically against the hardwood, led by an older man in a brown trench coat with a gold detective badge clipped to his belt.
Detective Miller.
The ballroom fell into a stunned, breathless silence. The guests pressed themselves against the tables, clearing a wide path as the officers moved purposefully down the center aisle.
"Marcus Edward Vance?" Detective Miller’s gravelly voice rang out.
Marcus stayed on the floor, soaked in water, his hair disheveled, staring up at the badges as if a firing squad had just lined up in front of him. "Wait... wait, officers, this is a private family dispute—"
"Save it, Marcus," Miller said, pulling a folded set of blue warrants from his coat pocket. "We have an active extradition warrant out of Cuyahoga County for grand theft, and three federal indictments from the Southern District of New York for wire fraud and interstate identity theft."
Miller stepped forward, unhooking a pair of steel handcuffs from his utility belt.
"And," Miller added, glancing at Chloe, "I believe the local prosecutor will be very interested in the grand larceny charges regarding Mrs. Mary Sullivan’s estate."
"No... no! You don't understand!" Marcus scrambled backward on his hands and knees, trying to crawl away like a wounded animal. "Chloe, tell them! Tell them you authorized the transfer! Tell them you gave me permission!"
May you like
Chloe stood on the stage, looking down at the creature who had owned her soul for two years. The fear in her eyes was gone. The confusion was gone. What remained was a terrifying, icy stillness.
"I gave Albert King permission," Chloe said, her voice clear and distinct. "I don't know who you are."
