PART 5
Every officer immediately raised their weapons.
"Nobody move!" Detective Collins shouted.
Nathan Vance's attorney slowly lifted the envelope higher.
"I'm here peacefully."
"I simply have a lawful court order."
Detective Collins accepted the document without saying a word.
He examined the seal.
The signature.
The case number.
For nearly thirty seconds, no one spoke.
Finally, he looked up.
"This isn't a court order."
The attorney forced a smile.
"There must be some mistake."
"No," Collins replied calmly.
"The mistake was thinking we'd be too busy to verify it."
He turned the paper around for everyone to see.
"The judge whose signature appears here retired almost four years ago."
The attorney's confident expression disappeared.
Before he could react, two officers stepped forward and handcuffed him.
"You are under arrest for attempting to interfere with an active homicide investigation."
At that exact moment, one of the officers outside shouted.
"Detective!"
"Someone's still inside the SUV!"
The rear door suddenly flew open.
A masked man burst out carrying a black duffel bag.
He didn't run away.
He ran straight toward the house.
"Stop!" several officers yelled.
Instead, the man threw the duffel bag onto the front porch.
Then he sprinted back toward the vehicle.
The bomb squad officer closest to the scene immediately screamed,
"Everyone back!"
"Possible explosive!"
Panic erupted.
Relatives scattered across the yard.
Officers pulled people behind patrol cars.
I grabbed Lily and shielded her with my body.
Detective Collins cautiously approached the bag with another officer.
After several agonizing minutes, the bomb technician unzipped it.
There was no bomb.
Instead, the bag was filled with shredded documents, burned hard drives, and stacks of cash bundled in plastic.
Millions of dollars.
Mixed among them were dozens of company files stamped with the logo of Vance Infrastructure Group.
The technician held up one partially burned folder.
"These were destroyed in a hurry."
Another officer picked up a damaged hard drive.
"The serial numbers match the missing servers from company headquarters."
Collins narrowed his eyes.
"So Nathan isn't trying to destroy evidence anymore."
"He's trying to control what evidence we find."
Meanwhile, the black SUV sped away from the property.
Police vehicles immediately gave chase.
Their sirens echoed through the neighborhood.
A helicopter was dispatched within minutes.
Back inside the house, forensic accountants began sorting through the recovered documents.
One investigator suddenly looked up.
"Detective..."
"You need to see this."
He spread several payment records across the dining table.
Every month, enormous sums had been transferred through shell companies.
One payment immediately caught my attention.
Security Assignment — Alex Carter
Amount: $250,000
Date: Three days before my business trip.
I stared at it in disbelief.
"I never received this money."
"You weren't supposed to," the investigator replied.
"The payment wasn't made to you."
He pointed to another name.
Recipient: Derek Carter.
The room fell silent.
Collins looked at me.
"Your assignment wasn't real."
"What do you mean?"
"The security contract was fabricated."
"There was never any client."
"You were deliberately sent out of town."
"So Clara would be left alone."
Those words hit me harder than anything else that day.
Everything had been planned.
My trip.
My phone being blocked.
Clara's desperate calls.
Even the funeral had been arranged before I returned.
It wasn't murder born out of anger.
It was an operation.
Suddenly, my father—who had remained silent in his wheelchair all afternoon—began striking the armrest again.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
His breathing became rapid.
He pointed frantically toward the fireplace.
Detective Collins walked over and examined the old brick mantel.
"There are fresh scratches."
Officers carefully moved the heavy wooden cabinet beside it.
Behind it was a small steel safe hidden inside the wall.
"What opens it?" an officer asked.
My father slowly raised three trembling fingers...
Then one...
Then seven.
The detective entered the combination.
Click.
The safe door opened.
Inside were old family photographs...
Property deeds...
And one thick leather notebook.
Across the front, in faded handwriting, were the words:
Arthur Carter — Personal Journal
Collins carefully opened the first page.
Within seconds, his expression changed completely.
"What is it?" I asked.
He slowly looked at me.
"This journal says Arthur has known Nathan Vance for over twenty-five years."
He turned another page.
Then another.
Every page revealed secret business meetings...
Hidden payments...
Threats...
And finally, one chilling sentence written only two weeks earlier.
If anything happens to Clara, Nathan promised Derek would never face prison... because someone much more powerful is protecting us all.
Before anyone could process the words, an officer's radio crackled.
"Detective Collins!"
"We've located Nathan Vance's helicopter."
"Empty."
"But we've just found something else."
"What?"
The officer hesitated.
Then answered quietly,
"We found the pilot."
"He's dead."
Which meant Nathan Vance hadn't escaped.
He had disappeared.
And somewhere nearby... someone was making sure there would be no witnesses left alive.
