Chapter 6 - The Federal Files
Within twenty minutes, Evelyn’s landline phone rang.
It was Marcus. Evelyn placed the phone on speaker so Lily and I could hear his crisp, authoritative voice cutting through the static of the long-distance connection.
"Aunt Evelyn, you said you had an emergency?" Marcus asked, his tone urgent.
"Listen to me very carefully, Marcus," Evelyn said, leaning over the kitchen counter. "Derek Vance has just initiated an active hit on his wife and daughter. They are sitting in my kitchen right now. He has forged federal insurance documents, laundered over two million dollars through offshore accounts, and hired a professional operative to stage an accidental fire at their residence."
Silence stretched over the line for a long, heavy moment.
"Is Elena there?" Marcus asked sharply.
I stepped closer to the phone. "I'm here, Marcus."
"Elena, do you have your husband's phone or any physical evidence—documents, flight itineraries, audio recordings?"
"I have the insurance policy he had delivered this morning," I said quickly, pulling the damp paper from my pocket and smoothing it out on Evelyn's kitchen table. "I have a photograph of his flight itinerary, and I have a twelve-minute audio recording of the intruder inside our house threatening us."
"That's gold," Marcus said, his voice picking up speed. "Listen to me, Elena. Do not go near a hospital, do not go to the local police precinct, and do not answer Derek's calls. I am dispatching a federal transport team to Evelyn's location right now. They carry federal credentials that local law enforcement cannot override. They will be at the property in thirty-four minutes."
Thirty-four minutes.
For the first time since Lily whispered those terrifying words in our kitchen, the suffocating weight in my chest eased just a fraction.
"What about Derek?" I asked. "Where is he supposed to be?"
"According to our surveillance tracking, Derek Vance checked into a luxury hotel downtown under an alias thirty minutes ago," Marcus replied grimly. "He thinks his alibi is airtight because his flight to Chicago was logged electronically. But he didn't actually board the plane. He’s waiting for the fire department call to notify him of the 'tragic accident' at his home."
A dark, cold fury rose up inside me, replacing the fear.
Derek thought he had won. He thought he could write our lives off like a bad business investment, pocket the insurance payout, clean out our accounts, and walk away scot-free to start over with his stolen wealth and his corporate cronies.
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"Marcus," I said, my voice steady and resolute. "How do we flip the script on him?"
"We let him walk right into his own trap," Marcus replied.
