I scanned the first page. It was a life insurance policy. It was taken out on Claire Vance, for a staggering three million dollars. The primary beneficiary was Richard Vance. The date on the policy change was less than three weeks ago.
“He insured her,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach. “He took out a massive policy, waited a few weeks, and then cut the brakes.”
I pulled out the ledgers. They were meticulously kept. Columns of names, dates, and payout amounts. But they weren't just insurance policies. There were deeds to houses, commercial properties, and businesses. I flipped through the pages, recognizing some of the addresses. They were all local businesses that had mysteriously burned down, gone bankrupt, or been seized by the city over the last five years.
Richard wasn’t just an abusive husband. He was a professional parasite. He forced small business owners into debt, took out insurance policies, and then arranged for accidents. If he was caught, he had enough corrupt officials in his pocket to make the investigations disappear.
“Look at this,” Rook said, pointing a grease-stained finger at a familiar address at the bottom of the page.
1420 4th Street. Iron & Oil Garage. Estimated Property Value: $450,000.
My blood ran cold. The garage wasn't just a random spot to him. He had been planning to target my shop eventually.
“He’s systematically destroying this town,” I whispered. “And Claire was his next payday.”
“Mac,” Bear said, his voice suddenly sharp. He was looking out the small reinforced window on the side door.
I turned. “What?”
“Two police cruisers just pulled up to the curb. Lights off. Four uniforms getting out.”
My stomach plummeted. Richard hadn’t gone to regroup. He had just gone around the corner to call in his favors.
I grabbed the folders and shoved them back into the lockbox, slamming the lid shut. “Rook, take Claire and Sam to the upstairs office. Lock the steel door. Do not make a sound.”
Rook grabbed Claire by the arm, guiding her and the boy up the metal staircase toward the loft office.
I walked toward the front of the shop just as heavy fists began pounding on the rolling steel security door.
“Open up! City Police!” a voice barked from outside.
I looked at Bear. We were trapped. If I opened the door, corrupt cops would confiscate the car, destroy the lockbox, and hand Claire and Sam straight back to Richard. If I didn’t open the door, they would breach the building, arrest us for obstruction, and do it anyway.
The pounding grew louder, echoing violently through the cavernous garage.
“Police! Open the door or we will breach it!”
I looked up at the main breaker box mounted on the concrete wall near the entrance. I made an irreversible decision. I wasn’t going to play their game. I was going to play mine.
I walked over to the breaker box, grabbed the heavy red main switch, and pulled it down.
The lights in the garage died instantly. The hum of the air compressor stopped. The entire building was plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
“Bear,” I whispered into the silence. “Grab the heavy chains.”
CHAPTER 4
The silence in the dark garage was heavy and suffocating. The only light came from the thin slivers of amber streetlights bleeding through the cracks in the steel roll-up door.
I moved purely by memory. I had spent fifteen years walking this floor. I knew exactly where every stray wrench, every oil pan, and every heavy piece of machinery was located. I heard the unmistakable sound of a crowbar jamming into the padlock on the side entry door. They weren't waiting for a warrant. They were coming in hot.
“Position two,” I whispered to Bear.
I heard Bear’s massive boots shuffle quietly toward the western wall, where the heavy engine hoists were stored. I moved toward the center bay, sliding behind a towering rolling tool cabinet.