The red and blue strobe lights suddenly flared to life outside, washing the pavilion in chaotic colors.
Vance spun around.
The heavy glass doors burst open. Detective Larson and four armed city cops flooded into the pavilion, their weapons raised.
“Drop the weapon, Vance! Drop it now!” Larson roared, his voice echoing with absolute authority.
Vance looked at the police, then back at me. For a second, I thought he might raise the gun and force a suicide-by-cop. But billionaires rarely have that kind of courage. His hand trembled, and he let the suppressed pistol clatter onto the marble floor. He raised his hands in defeat.
I let out a long, shuddering breath, feeling the adrenaline finally crash out of my system.
An hour later, I was sitting on the bumper of an ambulance outside the mall, letting an EMT wrap a bandage around my arm where I had scraped it on the server room glass. The flash drive was secure in an evidence bag. Thorne and his men were loaded into transport vans, facing federal racketeering and attempted murder charges.
Larson walked over, holding two cups of awful precinct coffee. He handed me one.
“The drive you pulled gave us enough to get a judge to sign a warrant for Vance’s private estate,” Larson said. “They found evidence of Chloe’s car tampering. It’s over, Dave. You got him.”
“What about Elias?” I asked.
“Released. Charges dropped. CPS is returning the kid to him right now at the hospital. He’s got full custody, and that trust fund is safe in Leo’s name.”
I looked out at the parking lot. The sun was coming up, washing the asphalt in a soft, forgiving orange light. The oppressive heat of yesterday had finally broken, leaving the morning air cool and breathable.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Maya.
I'm safe at Aunt Sarah's. What happened? Are you okay?
I smiled, typing back. I'm coming to get you. I'm okay. Everything is okay.
I had spent twenty years carrying the weight of a child I couldn't save, believing that walking away and keeping my head down was the only way to survive. But as I stood up and walked toward my truck, I realized I didn't want to hide anymore. I had finally found my peace, not by avoiding the fire, but by walking straight through it.
THE END