Chapter 5 - The Chase in the Rain
The flashing red and blue lights of three police cruisers cast long, rhythmic shadows across the wet stone facade of the Grace Fellowship Chapel.
I sat in the back of an ambulance, a gray shock blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders, while a young paramedic pressed a cold pack against the left side of my forehead where the swelling had already started to turn a deep, ugly purple. Emma sat beside me, her small hand buried inside mine, her thumb tucked firmly into her mouth as she stared blankly at the medical equipment lining the interior walls.
Detective Marcus Vance—no relation to my husband’s family, a dark irony he had pointed out immediately—stood at the ambulance doors, his trench coat soaked through from the downpour outside. He was holding a digital tablet, his face grim as he reviewed the corporate documents Sarah had provided.
“We’ve put out an All-Points Bulletin on Trevor’s vehicle,” Detective Vance said, his voice deep and calm against the ambient noise of the sirens. “State police have already set up checkpoints near the Interstate 87 corridor. He’s running, which means he knows exactly how deep his liability goes.”
“Did you catch Eleanor?” I asked, my voice sounding hollow, detached from my own throat.
“She’s at the precinct now,” the detective replied. “She hasn't said a word since they put her in the car. Her attorneys arrived before the ink was dry on the booking sheet, but given the child’s eyewitness statement and the corporate trail connecting the toxic compound to her son’s firm, the judge has denied bail. She’s not going anywhere.”
I looked out the back window of the ambulance toward the chapel entrance. The two small white caskets were currently being loaded into a secure vehicle from the medical examiner's office. They had to be taken back for an independent autopsy—the initial coroner had been recommended by the Vance family physician, another layer of the conspiracy that was now unraveling under the light of day.
“Mommy?” Emma whispered, pulling my sleeve. “Is Daddy going to heaven too?”
My heart broke into a thousand pieces. I leaned down, pulling her small body against my chest, burying my face in her damp hair. “No, sweetie. Daddy is just... he has to go away for a long time to talk to the police.”
“He was angry at you,” Emma said quietly. “He told Grandma on the phone that he wished he had never met us.”
A cold shudder ran through me. Trevor hadn't just been a passive participant in his mother’s manipulations; he had been the architect of his own resentment. He had blamed us for the friction between his ambition and his reality.
Sarah stepped into the back of the ambulance, her face flushed from talking to the police technicians inside the church. “Clara, the detective needs the keys to your house. They’re dispatching a forensics team to secure the kitchen and the nursery before Trevor can get back there to destroy any remaining evidence.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out our house keys, handing them to Detective Vance. “The formula tins are in the upper pantry cupboard on the left. The special bottles Eleanor brought over are in the dishwasher—she insisted on washing them herself before she left on Monday night.”
“We’ll find it, Mrs. Vance,” the detective said, his hand lingering on the ambulance door. “I suggest you go to your sister’s house tonight. Don't go back to the estate. Even with security, it’s not safe until we have Trevor in custody.”
As the ambulance pulled away from the curb, I looked back at the disappearing lights of the chapel. My life had been systematically dismantled in the span of four hours. The home I had spent three years building was now a crime scene, my husband was a fugitive, and my sons were inside a state forensic laboratory.
But as we turned the corner onto the highway, my sister’s phone chimed again. The same anonymous forum account, TruthSeeker2026, had posted a second comment under the thread.
May you like
Sarah opened it, her eyes widening as she read the text aloud in the quiet vehicle.
“The police are looking for Trevor Vance on the highway. But they should check the private marina in Mamaroneck. The Vance family yacht, The Sovereign, has its engines running. He’s not trying to clear the state border by car. He’s leaving by water.”
