Chapter 49 - The Shadow on Lake Shore
The snow was falling heavily as our cab pulled up before the wrought-iron gates of St. Jude’s Convalescent Home. The building was an old Victorian mansion overlooking the dark, rolling waves of Lake Michigan, surrounded by ancient weeping willows whose branches bowed low under the weight of the ice.
As we stepped out onto the sidewalk, Ellis suddenly grabbed my arm, pulling me back into the shadow of the brick gatepost.
A black sedan with Michigan plates was parked across the street, its engine idling, exhaust pluming white into the freezing air. Sitting in the front passenger seat was Harlan Cross, his cellular phone pressed to his ear, staring intently at the front entrance of the convalescent home.
"He beat us here," Ellis growled, his jaw setting hard. "The driver from the crossing must have radioed ahead. Cross didn't go for the bank—he knew Eleanor was the weak link."
"He can't touch her," I said, a cold, unyielding rage rising up from somewhere deep inside my chest. For my entire life, I had been the passive victim of Raymond's control, cowed by his threats, humiliated at my own wedding reception, and treated like an inconvenient obstacle to his greed.
No more.
"Ellis, call Sheriff Miller," I said, handing him my phone. "Tell him Cross is in Illinois, violating state lines with stolen Vance Lumber records. Mrs. Gable, stay with the cab."
May you like
"What are you doing, Abigail?" Ellis demanded, catching my sleeve.
"I’m ending this," I said, pulling the maroon deed and the audio cassettes from my leather bag. "Harlan Cross is a coward who bullies through legal intimidation. He’s about to find out that Sanford Vance didn't leave his empire to a frightened child."
