Chapter 9 - The ArrestFor one terrible second, I couldn't understand.
“Me?”
The officer nodded.
“You're under arrest for financial fraud, identity theft, and conspiracy.”
My mother looked shocked.
Steve stared at her.
Lucy began crying.
Daniel shouted, “This is insane!”
The officer produced a warrant.
My name.
My photograph.
My signature.
Evidence.
Too much evidence.
I was handcuffed before I could process it.
As I was led outside, I looked at my mother.
Her face was unreadable.
“Mom!”
She stepped forward.
“I didn't do this.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Neither did I.”
Then I noticed something.
The officer holding the warrant had a small scar above his eyebrow.
Harold had mentioned that scar years ago.
A private security man who worked for Northbridge.
Not police.
I realized the uniforms were fake.
“Daniel!” I screamed.
Too late.
The van door slammed shut.
I was trapped.
The driver looked at me through the mirror.
“You shouldn't have opened the box.”
My blood froze.
I lunged toward the divider.
“Who are you?”
He smiled.
“Someone cleaning up your father's mistakes.”
The van began moving.
I looked through the rear window.
My family grew smaller.
Then I saw someone standing across the street.
Uncle Harold.
He wasn't trying to stop the van.
He was watching.
And he was smiling.
That terrified me more than anything.
The driver made a call.
“We have her.”
A voice answered through the speaker.
“Good.”
I recognized it.
My mother's voice.
I went cold.
She had arranged this.
The van drove for forty minutes.
Eventually we entered an underground garage.
I was dragged into a room.
A man in a suit waited there.
He placed a glass of water on the table.
“Jenny.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Victor Hale.”
“Why am I here?”
“Because you inherited something you were never supposed to find.”
“The trust?”
He smiled.
“No.”
“What then?”
He placed a folder in front of me.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Victor.
And another man.
Steve.
Taken twelve years ago.
I looked at him.
“What is this?”
Victor leaned back.
“Your father wasn't the victim.”
I stared at him.
“He was the architect.”
“Of what?”
Victor's expression hardened.
“Of the entire company.”
He leaned closer.
“And the money he stole?”
I shook my head.
“What money?”
“The money that built your million-dollar house.”
I felt the room spin.
Victor whispered:
“Your father built Northbridge using stolen money.”
“And my mother?”
“She tried to destroy the evidence.”
“So why am I here?”
He smiled.
“Because you're the last person who can unlock the account.”
I stared at him.
“And if I refuse?”
Victor nodded toward the door.
“You won't.”
May you like
A moment later, the lights went out.
Then I heard a gunshot.
