Chapter 2 - The Weight of the Badge
Derek didn't make it to the porch.
I caught him by the collar of his denim jacket near the pantry, slamming him face-first into the doorframe with enough force to rattle the canned goods on the shelves. He shrieked as I twisted his arm behind his back, bringing my knee down hard against the small of his spine.
"Alex! Don't kill him!" Officer Miller shouted, drawing his sidearm as he rushed down the hallway. "Get off him! Let us handle it!"
"He laid his hands on my wife while I was driving fifteen tons of Vance’s cargo across state lines!" I slammed Derek’s face against the floorboard. "Tell me what you did to her, Derek! Tell me before the state police get here, because once they put you in a cell, you’re dealing with me!"
"It wasn't my idea!" Derek sobbed, nose bleeding against the linoleum. "It was Mr. Vance! He said Clara had the audit files! He said if I didn't get the drive back, he’d fire you, pull the mortgage on Dad’s medical lease, and put me in prison for the warehouse shortages!"
My mother collapsed onto the sofa, wailing and tearing at her hair. "He promised us we’d be protected, Alex! Marcus Vance promised us he’d pay off the house! He said Clara was going to destroy the family by going to the federal prosecutors!"
"So you locked her in?" I walked back into the living room, leaving Derek pinned under Deputy Vance’s boot. I stared down at my mother, feeling a cold, absolute emptiness where my love for her had lived for thirty-two years. "You held the door while your own son assaulted my wife? You took her primary phone so she couldn't dial 911?"
"She was going to ruin everything!" my mother shrieked, her face grotesque with rage and tears. "She was an outsider! She didn't belong in Silver Creek! She was going to put Vance in prison—the man who keeps this whole town employed! The man who pays your salary!"
Aunt Beatrice began edging toward the front porch again, but Officer Miller clicked his handcuffs free. "Beatrice Miller, you’re under arrest as an accessory to a felony, tampering with evidence, and filing a false death certificate. Sit down and shut your mouth."
My father let out a low, shuddering breath. Tears were streaming down his paralyzed cheek, dripping onto his flannel shirt. He raised his left hand, pointing at the flash drive still gripped tightly in my knuckles.
"Dad," I whispered, kneeling beside his chair. "Did you see them?"
He nodded once, a sharp, agony-filled movement. He squeezed my hand with surprising strength, then tapped his own throat, making a choking sound.
"They didn't just lock her in, did they?" I said, the horrific truth dawning on me in waves of ice. "They tried to make it look like she took her own life after Derek realized what he’d done."
The state police units pulled into the driveway—four black-and-white cruisers with searchlights cutting through the darkness. The lead detective, a hard-faced woman named Inspector Sarah Reyes, stepped onto the porch with two crime scene technicians carrying aluminum cases.
"Alex Mercer?" Reyes asked, flashing her badge. "We received a direct call from the State Attorney General’s office ten minutes ago. Someone tried to upload a encrypted Vance Logistics ledger to an FBI portal from this IP address three days ago."
May you like
I held out Clara’s prepaid phone and the flash drive.
"My wife died trying to protect this," I said, my voice dead and quiet. "And the man who ordered it is currently sitting in the corner office of Vance Global Logistics."
