Chapter 7 - The Shadow on the Coast
The storm outside reached its peak at midnight. Thunder shook the heavy foundations of the mansion, and the sea spray was blowing so high off the cliffs that it hit the third-floor nursery windows like handfuls of fine gravel.
I stood in the nursery, holding Noah in my arms. He was awake now, his tiny hands clutching my index finger, his hazel eyes tracking the small wooden mobile hanging above his crib.
Evelyn stepped into the room, holding a warm bottle of milk.
"His temperature is 98.6," she said, her voice softer than it had been all night. "His breath sounds are completely clear."
I looked down at my son, then up at her. "The federal prosecutor in Boston received the decrypted files twenty minutes ago. A grand jury was convened in a special emergency session at eleven o'clock."
Evelyn set the bottle on the changing table, standing beside me near the crib. "And Harrison Vance?"
"An arrest warrant has been issued," I said. "Federal marshals are currently executing a search warrant on his estate in Virginia, as well as the corporate headquarters in Baltimore."
Evelyn looked down at her hands. The relief didn't come in a sudden, overwhelming wave; it came slowly, like the tide receding from a rocky shore, leaving behind a deep, quiet stillness.
"Eight months ago," she murmured, "I thought my life was over. I thought I would spend the rest of my days moving from city to city, changing my name, waiting for a bullet in a dark alley."
"And now?" I asked softly, taking a step toward her.
She looked up at me, her dark eyes reflecting the soft, yellow light of the nightlamp. "Now... I don't know who I am without the fear."
Before I could answer, the room went completely dark.
The heavy, hum of the central air conditioning died instantly. The emergency backup generators didn't kick in. The silence that followed was immediate, thick, and suffocating.
My collar microphone buzzed with frantic, broken static.
"Michael!" Frank’s voice came through, distorted and chopped by radio interference. "They cut... main line... subterranean security... disabled! They’re on the property!"
"Frank!" I shouted into the mic. "Frank, report!"
Only static answered.
Evelyn reached out in the dark, her hand finding mine, her fingers locking tightly around my palm.
May you like
"Harrison Vance didn't go to Virginia," she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat.
"No," I said, my hand instinctively pulling Noah tight against my chest while my right hand pulled a sleek, heavy Kimber .45 pistol from the hidden holster under my arm. "He came here to burn the evidence himself."
