Chapter 5 - The Web of Victor Vance
By three o'clock in the morning, the house on Elm Street was quiet again, though the front door was secured with temporary police tape and a guard was posted in the driveway.
I sat in the kitchen, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, holding a mug of coffee Detective Miller had bought for me at a nearby diner.
Detective Miller sat across the table, his suit jacket off, his tie loosened, looking over a stack of legal documents he had pulled from his briefcase.
"Your father is currently booked at the county jail," Miller explained, his voice low and steady. "Breaking and entering, felony burglary, domestic endangerment, and destruction of property. With his prior record and the IRS files Holloway turned over this afternoon, bail will be set at five million dollars. He isn't getting out."
I took a slow sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through my hands. "What about my mother?"
"She was arrested as an accessory," Miller replied grimly. "She’s currently crying in an interrogation room, trying to blame everything on your father. But what concerns me more, Chloe... is the name your father mentioned."
My heart skipped a beat. "Victor Vance."
Miller nodded, his expression turning grave. "Victor is your father's first cousin. He runs a high-yield private equity firm in Manhattan that is currently under federal investigation for money laundering and extortion. Your father borrowed six hundred thousand dollars from Victor's firm three years ago to keep his logistics company afloat."
Miller tapped his pencil against the table.
"Victor's auditors realized last week that John used fraudulent collateral—specifically, land titles belonging to your grandmother's estate that he didn't legally own," Miller continued. "Now that your grandmother is dead and the estate has passed entirely to you, Victor's legal team... and his less legal operatives... are going to look to you for repayment."
"I won't pay his debts," I said firmly, my voice surprising even myself with its absolute lack of hesitation. "Grandma told me in her letter never to give them a single cent."
"Good," Miller said, a faint smile appearing on his scarred face. "Because you don't legally owe them a penny. But you need protection, Chloe. Victor's men aren't petty burglars like your dad. They are professionals."
Miller pulled a business card from his pocket and slid it across the table.
It read: Gideon Security Services — Private Protection & Asset Recovery.
"Call him," Miller advised. "Gideon is a former US Marshal who specializes in high-value estate protection. He worked for your grandmother five years ago when your father first started stealing from her accounts. He knows the house, he knows the family, and he doesn't miss a thing."
I picked up the card, feeling the heavy, textured paper beneath my fingertips.
May you like
"Thank you, Detective," I said softly.
"Don't thank me yet, Chloe," Miller warned, standing up and pulling his coat on. "The storm isn't over. Your father was just the front wave. The real fight for Elm Street starts now."
