Chapter 5 - THE CONFRONTATION
By 1:15 p.m., the skies over my suburban neighborhood had turned dark as night, heavy rain lashing against the windshield of my SUV.
I pulled into my driveway.
Gideon’s black sedan was parked in the garage. Beside it sat Celina’s red hatchback, and parked discreetly along the curb behind the boxwood hedges was Veronica Vance’s silver luxury sedan.
All three of them were inside my home.
I sat in the driver’s seat for ten seconds, taking three deep, controlled breaths. My heart was pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird, but my mind was completely ice.
In my pocket, my phone was connected to an open, continuous audio line routed directly to FBI Special Agent Marcus Reed, who was sitting in an unmarked tactical command van parked two blocks away down the street. Four armed federal strike teams were currently positioning themselves in the tree line surrounding my backyard and side entrances.
“Bernice,” Agent Reed’s voice whispered through my hidden earpiece. “We have eyes on the structure. Thermal imaging shows three adults in the primary living area. No sign of weapons on their persons, but stay cautious. As soon as you give the verbal code word, we breach.”
“Understood,” I whispered back.
I opened the car door, stepped out into the pouring rain, and walked up the front steps.
I used my key to unlock the front door.
The heavy oak door swung open with a quiet creak.
The living room was lit only by the grey daylight filtering through the rain-slicked windows. Standing by the marble fireplace was my husband, Gideon. He was wearing his suit pants and a button-down shirt, his hair disheveled, a half-empty glass of bourbon in his hand.
Sitting on the leather sofa was my sister, Celina. She was wearing her court clerk ID badge over a black dress, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, wringing a damp tissue in her lap.
And standing near my dining table, packing thick stacks of paper files into a large leather garment bag, was Veronica Vance.
As I stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind me, all three of them whirled around to face me.
Gideon immediately looked past me, scanning the empty hallway. “Where is Roger?” he demanded, his voice sharp and aggressive. “I told you to bring our son home!”
“Roger is somewhere safe, Gideon,” I said, stepping into the living room, taking off my wet winter coat and folding it carefully over the arm of a chair. “He’s somewhere where his father can never force him to sleep on a freezing floor again.”
Celina let out a choked sob, covering her face with her hands. “Bernice... please... I’m so sorry... you don't understand what happened—”
“Shut up, Celina!” Veronica Vance snapped, her voice cutting through the room like a steel whip. She dropped a stack of files into her bag and glared at me with cold, aristocratic disdain. “Did you delete the cloud files, Mrs. Miller?”
I looked directly at Veronica. “Why would I delete the evidence of a forty-million-dollar federal theft ring, Mrs. Vance? Does your husband know you’re using his official court seal to steal from dead people?”
Veronica didn't even flinch. She gave a cruel, condescending laugh. “Arthur is an old, blind fool who spends his life reading dusty law books. He doesn't know anything. And neither do you.”
Gideon stepped toward me, setting his bourbon glass down on the mantelpiece with a loud clack. His face was flushed, his jaw set in a terrifyingly aggressive angle.
“I asked you a question, Bernice,” Gideon growled, taking two long strides until he was standing just three feet away from me. “Did you delete the files from your server?”
“No, Gideon,” I said, standing my ground, looking him straight in his cold, dead eyes. “I didn't delete them. In fact, I made three separate backup copies.”
Gideon’s face went purple with rage. He reached out and grabbed me by the upper arm, his fingers digging violently through my nursing scrub top into my flesh.
“You stupid, arrogant bitch!” Gideon hissed into my face, his breath smelling heavily of alcohol. “You just signed your own death warrant! Do you have any idea who we’re working for? Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to you now?”
Celina gasped, standing up from the couch. “Gideon, stop! Don't hurt her!”
“Stay out of this, Celina!” Gideon roared without looking back at her. He tightened his grip on my arm, shaking me violently. “Where is the flash drive, Bernice? Tell me where it is right now, or so help me God, I will find Roger and—”
I looked Gideon straight in the eye, feeling no fear—only a profound, absolute disgust for the monster I had slept beside for seven years.
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“The flash drive is right where it belongs, Gideon,” I said clearly, speaking directly into the hidden microphone on my collar.
“The sky is falling.”
