Chapter 5 - THE SIEGE ON 4TH STREET
Sal didn't panic.
He reached under his desk, pulled out a heavy steel key, and unlocked a metal cabinet mounted on the wall. Inside hung a 12-gauge Remington shotgun and two boxes of shells.
“Get into the back room,” Sal ordered quietly, racking a shell into the chamber with a loud, mechanical clack. “There’s a reinforced fire door that leads to the side alley. Take your flash drive and go.”
“I'm not leaving you here, Sal,” I said, grabbing the black folder from the desk.
“Claire, they aren't here for me,” Sal said, his eyes fixed on the security monitor. “They're here to burn this drive and destroy every piece of paper in this office. If they find you here, you won't survive the night. Go!”
A loud, shattering crash echoed from the back bay door as the crowbar hit the lock assembly.
I squeezed Sal’s arm once, pulled my sweater tight, and ran through the dark storage room toward the emergency exit.
I shoved the heavy steel door open, bursting into the freezing rain in the narrow side alley between the garage and a brick warehouse.
I heard the sound of splintering wood behind me, followed by Brandon’s voice shouting over the sound of the storm: “Where is she? Where’s the drive, Sal?!”
Then came the deafening boom of Sal’s shotgun firing into the ceiling, followed by the sound of shouting and scrambling footsteps.
I didn't stop. I ran down the alley, my shoes splashing through deep puddles of freezing water, turning left onto 5th Street toward the downtown area.
My phone rang in my pocket.
It was an unknown number.
I answered it while running, pressing the phone to my wet ear. “Hello?!”
“Claire.”
It was my mother’s voice. She wasn't yelling anymore. Her tone was terrifyingly sweet, measured, and calm—the voice she used when she was trying to convince neighbors that our family was perfectly normal.
“Claire, darling, where are you going? It's so cold outside.”
“Stay away from me,” I gasped into the phone, my chest burning. “I know everything. I know about Apex. I know about Baltimore. I know what Brandon did to Ethan’s car.”
A long, chilling pause followed on the line.
When my mother spoke again, all warmth had vanished from her tone.
“Ethan was a fool, Claire,” she said coldly. “He was an arrogant, righteous fool who thought he could destroy this family over a few paper irregularities. He was going to put your brother in a federal penitentiary for twenty years. Do you have any idea what that would have done to our reputation?”
I stopped in my tracks beneath a flickering streetlamp, my body trembling with a rage so violent I could barely stand.
“He killed my daughter!” I screamed into the phone, my voice tearing through the empty street. “Lily was seven years old! Your own granddaughter!”
“That was an unfortunate miscalculation!” my mother snapped back, without a single shred of remorse or grief in her voice. “Brandon didn't know Lily was going to be in the car that morning! She was supposed to be at school! It was an accident!”
An unfortunate miscalculation.
That was how she described the death of my child.
“You are monsters,” I whispered. “All of you.”
“Listen to me very carefully, Claire,” my mother said, her voice turning into a razor-thin threat. “You have no evidence that will hold up in court. The brake lines were destroyed in the post-crash fire. The police report is closed. If you try to go to the authorities with that flash drive, your father will ensure you are committed to a psychiatric facility before you can even sign an affidavit. You are a grieving, unstable widow who just lost her mind.”
“Try it,” I said.
“Where are you, Claire?” she demanded. “Brandon is searching the area. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Come back to the house. Give us the drive, and we will take care of you. We will give you your share of the estate.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear, looked at the glowing screen, and pressed the red disconnect button.
Then I removed the SIM card from the side of the phone, snapped it in half, and tossed it into a storm drain.
I turned toward Constitution Avenue.
May you like
I wasn't going to the police station.
I was going to the one place my father’s political connections couldn't reach.
