Chapter 18 - The Net Closes
By five o’clock in the morning, the county police headquarters looked like a military war room.
Marcus Hayes stood at the center of the briefing room, slapping the water-stained federal documents from Arthur’s safe onto the chief detective’s desk. Julian and I sat on a bench against the wall, wrapped in scratchy wool blankets, holding paper cups of lukewarm black coffee. My clothes were damp with sea salt; Julian’s right knuckle was bruised, but neither of us felt the cold.
The chief detective, a weathered man named Sullivan who had known Eleanor for thirty years, slammed his radio down after listening to a field report.
"We found Garrick Vance," Sullivan announced, turning toward us.
My heart leaped into my throat. "Where?"
"He tried to cross the state line in Helena Vance’s private jet at the regional airstrip," Sullivan said grimly. "State troopers intercepted the plane on the tarmac ten minutes ago. He broke his bail conditions, discharged an illegal firearm, and set fire to a private residence. He’s in custody. No bail this time."
"And Arthur Sterling?" I asked, gripping Julian’s hand. "Did they find anyone in the fire?"
Sullivan allowed a faint, knowing smirk to touch his lips. "The cottage is ash. But the Coast Guard picked up an elderly man in a survival suit drifting two miles south in an inflatable life raft half an hour ago. He was complaining that the saltwater ruined his tobacco. He’s already giving a full deposition to the FBI."
A long, shuddering breath escaped my lungs. Julian pulled me closer, resting his chin against my temple, his shoulders finally dropping from their rigid defensive posture.
"What about Helena?" Julian asked.
"Helena Vance was arrested at her penthouse forty minutes ago," Marcus said, stepping over to us with a satisfied grin. "The federal warrant hit the US Marshals service the second Arthur’s files were authenticated. They caught her shredding files related to Aegis Holdings. She’s being charged with federal wire fraud, witness intimidation, and attempted arson. Judge Richard Vance has already tendered his resignation to the judicial board under threat of immediate impeachment."
The entire dynasty—the cold, calculating empire that had treated people like disposable pawns—had collapsed in a single night.
Victoria was awaiting sentencing. Garrick was behind bars without bail. Helena was facing federal prison. The web of deceit that had strangled Eleanor for decades had been severed at the root.
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"You can go home now, Clara," Detective Sullivan said softly, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. "High Ridge is completely yours. There isn't a court in this country that could ever question your deed again."
***
