Chapter 12 - The Trap Snaps Shut
"Promise you?" Evelyn sneered, stepping closer until Rachel could smell her expensive floral perfume over the salt air. "You're a fired housekeeper living on hand-outs in a tenement, Rachel. You don't make demands of me."
"You framed me," Rachel said, keeping her tone trembling just enough to play the part of the desperate victim. "You staged that ring theft at the hotel. You ruined my job, my reputation, my income—just to get this drive!"
"Of course I framed you!" Evelyn snapped, her patience snapping under the biting cold. "You think I cared about a five-thousand-dollar ring? I needed you panicked! I needed you desperate enough to run straight to David's safe deposit box because you were too stupid to figure out the location on your own!"
"And my husband?" Rachel pressed, taking a half-step forward. "You set fire to the warehouse in Norfolk, didn't you? You killed Thomas Vance and blamed David!"
"Thomas Vance was an idiot who thought he could judge my father!" Evelyn shouted, her face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated malice. "He deserved to burn in that office! And David should have died right beside him if he hadn't fled like a coward! Now give me the drive before Julian puts a bullet in your knee and takes it from your coat!"
Julian stepped forward, pulling a heavy silver pistol from his jacket and leveling it directly at Rachel's chest.
Rachel looked at the barrel of the gun. She looked at Evelyn's triumphant, cruel eyes.
And then, Rachel smiled.
It was a cold, beautiful, utterly fearless smile that made Evelyn’s breath catch in her throat.
"The ledger is clear," Rachel said softly.
Evelyn blinked. "What?"
Before Julian could pull the trigger, three massive floodlights mounted on the industrial cranes above exploded into blinding daylight, illuminating the entire pier in ten thousand watts of harsh white glare.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" a megaphone boomed from the darkness.
Dozens of tactical officers in heavy body armor flared out from behind the shipping containers, their laser sights painting bright red dots across Julian’s chest and Evelyn’s face.
Julian dropped the pistol instantly onto the ice, raising his hands above his head as two officers tackled him to the frozen planks.
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Evelyn staggered back, her umbrella blowing away into the dark, crashing waves of Lake Michigan. She looked at Rachel in sheer, unadulterated horror as Marcus Vance stepped out from behind the lead tactical vehicle, wearing his badge and federal mantle.
"Evelyn Vance," Marcus said, his voice echoing across the pier like thunder. "You are under arrest for federal racketeering, extortion, interstate conspiracy, and the murder of Thomas Vance."
