Chapter 8 - Shadows in the Rearview
The courtroom erupted into utter chaos. Reporters shoved each other out the doors to be the first to broadcast the arrest of a sitting judge. Robert was tackled back into his chair by three bailiffs as he screamed obscenities at Bridget and me, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. Eleanor collapsed onto the defense table in theatrical, gasping hysterics.
We slipped out through the judge's chambers under federal escort. By noon, Vance was in federal custody, Robert and Eleanor were remanded to maximum-security holding without bail pending federal transfer, and the news had broken nationwide.
Yet, as Bradley drove us back toward the country road that afternoon, the triumph in the truck felt fragile.
"Check your six," Bradley said quietly, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.
I turned around carefully. A black, unmarked SUV with heavily tinted windows was trailing us about four car lengths behind. It had been behind us since we crossed the bridge leaving the city limits.
"Is it media?" I asked, placing a protective hand over my stomach.
"Media uses vans with satellite dishes," Bradley said calmly, but his knuckles were pale on the steering wheel. "That’s a heavy-duty chassis. Someone who worked for Robert’s syndicate is keeping tabs on where we live."
Bradley made a sudden, sharp left turn onto an unpaved fire lane. The black SUV slowed down, lingered near the intersection for several long seconds, and then sped away down the main highway.
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"They're watching the farm," Bridget whispered from the backseat, clutching her knees to her chest. "Robert had associates in construction unions and private debt collection. Dangerous men who don't care about the law. If Robert goes down, they lose their laundering pipeline."
Bradley reached over, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the top of my fingers. "Nobody touches this family, Shelby. Not Robert, not his lackeys. I'm calling my brothers."
