Chapter 6 - The Trap Snaps Shut
Michael’s recovery was fast—the desperate instinct of a cornered predator. He slammed both palms onto his desk, trying to regain control.
"This is a hoax!" Michael shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Dominic. "I don't know who you are or what you've done to my wife, but she’s confused! Emily suffered a traumatic head injury! She disappeared during a snowstorm—"
"Save it, Michael," I interrupted, standing directly across from him. "You pushed me."
"I did no such thing!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "You slipped! I tried to catch you!"
Dominic reached into his coat, pulled out a small black audio recorder, and set it on the desk between us. He pressed play.
A static-laced recording filled the room.
“Is she dead?” Ashley’s recorded voice echoed clearly through the office speakers.
“For fifty million dollars, she’d better be,” Michael’s voice responded, crisp, cold, and unmistakable.
“What if somebody finds her?”
“Not tonight.”
Ashley dropped to her knees on the floor, weeping hysterically. "Michael, you said the mountain radio was unmonitored! You said nobody was listening!"
Michael turned on her like a rabid dog. "Shut up, Ashley! Keep your mouth shut!"
"The recording was taken by a directional microphone mounted on our search helicopter, Mr. Carter," Dominic said, stepping up beside me, his towering frame casting a long shadow over my husband. "Along with 4K thermal footage of you physically shoving your pregnant wife over the ledge of the overlook."
Special Agent Miller stepped forward, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from her belt.
"Michael Carter, you are under arrest for attempted first-degree murder, wire fraud, conspiracy to commit insurance fraud, and grand larceny," Agent Miller declared. "Ashley Monroe, you are under arrest as an accessory to attempted murder and corporate fraud."
Michael looked at the handcuffs, then at the FBI agents, and finally at me. The arrogance that had sustained him for years crumbled into pitiful, desperate panic.
"Emily, please!" Michael dropped to his knees behind his desk, tears finally streaming down his face—real tears this time, born of pure terror. "Think about our baby! Think about our daughter! You can't put her father in prison!"
I leaned over the desk, looking down at the man I had once believed was my protector.
"You didn't care about our daughter when you left her to freeze on a rock shelf," I said, my voice as cold as the snow on Mount Evans. "You aren't her father, Michael. You're just a stranger who's going to spend the rest of his life in a cage."
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As the agents hauled Michael and Ashley away in chains, his screams echoing down the elevator shaft, I felt a sharp, strong kick against my ribs.
My daughter was wide awake. And for the first time in six months, so was I.
