Chapter 7 - The Confrontation
The rain fell in sheets over the industrial district of Halloway City.
In an abandoned warehouse near the shipping docks, Carl Miller, the disgruntled BrightLine foreman, sat in his pickup truck, counting a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. He had a packed suitcase in the passenger seat and a one-way ticket to Miami in his pocket.
"You should have asked for more," a deep, chilling voice spoke from the shadows of the passenger seat.
Miller gasped, dropping the money as he reached for his glove compartment. But before his hand could touch the latch, a heavy, black-gloved hand gripped his collar and slammed his head violently against the steering wheel.
The driver’s side door was thrown open, and Rodrick Vance stepped in out of the rain. He looked like an angel of death, his long dark coat dripping water, his gray eyes devoid of any human emotion.
"Mr. Vance... please..." Miller choked out, blood dripping from his nose. "I didn't have a choice! Thorne... he said they’d hurt my family if I didn't swap the steel and sign her name!"
Rodrick leaned into the truck, his face inches from Miller’s. He didn't raise his voice, which made it infinitely more terrifying.
"You put a cheap bracket on a bridge where families drive every day, Carl. You tried to send an innocent woman—a widow who has done nothing but try to save lives—to prison for your greed. And you brought the Morettis into my city."
He reached out, his fingers tightening around Miller's throat with a slow, crushing pressure. "You have exactly ten seconds to tell me where the original steel manifests are hidden, and who in the BrightLine board office helped you forge Della’s signature. If you lie, you will join the steel in the lake."
"In... in the desk!" Miller gasped, his eyes bulging. "The bottom drawer... of the night supervisor’s office at the substation! The original delivery slips... and a recording of Thorne offering the bribe! It’s all there! I kept it for insurance!"
Rodrick stared at him for three agonizing seconds before releasing his grip. Miller collapsed against the seat, coughing and wheezing.
"Victor," Rodrick called out without looking back.
May you like
Victor stepped out of the rain, holding a video camera. "I got it all, boss."
"Take Mr. Miller to the police station," Rodrick commanded, wiping a drop of rain from his cheek. "And make sure the District Attorney understands that if Silas Thorne isn't arrested by midnight, I will handle the matter personally."
