Chapter 6 - The Trap Snaps Back
By the time the police and ambulances arrived, Valerie was sitting passively on a log, offering no resistance as Detective Vance cuffed her. Carol was loaded into an ambulance, fully conscious now but suffering from a severe concussion and a broken collarbone.
"She’s talking," Detective Vance said, walking over to me as a paramedic bandaged the cut on my forehead. "Valerie Lattimore is spilling everything. She realized she’s been played from the start. But there’s a problem, Emily."
"What is it?"
"Michael isn't in Montenegro," Vance said, his expression grim. "He never boarded the connecting flight from London. Valerie was his decoy. He had her buy the tickets to Podgorica using her corporate credentials to draw federal attention to Europe. According to the digital trail Valerie just gave us, Michael is currently hiding out in a private marina in Miami, preparing to board a unregistered yacht bound for South America in twelve hours."
My heart stopped. South America. If he made it into the vast, unregulated coastal waters, we would never see him again. The money would be lost forever, and Leo would grow up knowing his father got away with trying to destroy us.
"Can the Miami police stop him?" I asked frantically.
"The marina is a private, gated compound owned by a shell company," Vance replied, cursing under his breath. "By the time we coordinate a federal warrant across state lines and get a tactical team there, he could already be in international waters. We need a confirmed location or a reason for the Coast Guard to intercept the specific vessel, but he’s using an alias and an unregistered hull number."
Suddenly, my phone—which the police tech team had recently unlocked and restored to a temporary network—began to vibrate in my pocket.
The screen showed an unknown, encrypted number.
I looked at Detective Vance. He instantly signaled to a tech van parked nearby. "Answer it. Keep him on the line for at least two minutes so we can trace the specific satellite uplink."
I pressed accept and put the phone to my ear, my hand shaking. "Michael?"
"Emily," his voice came through, cool, calm, and utterly devoid of remorse. It was the voice of a stranger. "I saw the news alerts. I assume my mother played the hero with her sledgehammer. Annoying, but ultimately irrelevant."
"You monster," I spat, tears of rage finally burning my eyes. "You locked your own son in a house with no water! He had a fever! He almost died!"
"Oh, please. I knew Carol would check the accounts within forty-eight hours and go running to play the savior," Michael said with a dismissive chuckle. "It was calculated, Emily. You were never in any real danger. I just needed you out of the way while the wire transfers cleared. Now, listen to me very carefully. Valerie has the offline ledger. I need the alpha-numeric code written on the inside cover to unlock the final clearing account. If you give it to me right now, I will wire two million dollars back to Carol's account. You can keep the house, get a quiet divorce, and live comfortably. If you don't... well, let's just say I have copies of those medical reports, and I can still make your life a living hell from abroad."
I looked down at the black ledger I had taken from the safe, which was currently sitting on the hood of the police car. I opened the cover. There was a code: VX-992-ALPHA.
Detective Vance was frantically gesturing to me, holding up a finger to indicate they needed one more minute for the trace.
"Why should I trust you, Michael?" I stalled, my voice shaking with real, unadulterated hatred. "You lied to Valerie. You told her I was a Pendelton. You used her father's suicide to make her your accomplice."
A brief pause on the line. "Valerie was a useful idiot with a grudge," Michael said coldly. "She did the heavy lifting, and now she takes the blame. That's business, Emily. Now, give me the code. I’m boarding the boat in ten minutes."
"The code is..." I looked at Vance, who gave me a sharp nod—we got the trace.
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"The code is that you are a pathetic coward, Michael," I said, every word dripping with ice. "And you are never getting off that dock."
I slammed the phone down.
