Chapter 6 - The Ransom of Pride
I froze, the cold metal of the car door handle digging into my bandaged palms. “Get in,” Victoria repeated, her voice dead steady. She cocked the hammer of the gun. The click echoed loudly in the concrete garage. I climbed into the seat, my knees shaking uncontrollably. Nathaniel, unaware of what was happening on my side, got into the driver’s seat. As soon as he closed his door, he saw the gun. He froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel. In the rearview mirror, I could see Eleanor holding her breath, terrified. “Drive, Nathaniel,” Victoria commanded. “Take the private exit toward Long Island.” “You’re out of your mind, Victoria,” Nathaniel said, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone. “The police are already looking for you. Vance failed.” “Vance was a distraction,” Victoria laughed coldly. “He’s a hired thug I married for convenience. He thought we were splitting the estate. I never planned on sharing.” Nathaniel put the car in drive. The heavy SUV rolled out of the garage and onto the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan. “What do you want?” Eleanor asked from the back, her voice shaking. “I want what’s mine,” Victoria spat, her elegant facade finally cracking. “My mother died in a roach-infested apartment while your husband was buying you diamond necklaces, Eleanor. He paid her off and threw us away like garbage. I don't just want the money. I want the Callaway name completely destroyed.” “So you push an old woman off a roof?” I asked, staring at the barrel of the gun. Victoria glared at me. “She was supposed to fall. Everyone was supposed to see the tragic suicide of the grieving widow who couldn't handle her son moving on. It was perfect. Until you played hero.” “You won't get away with this,” Nathaniel said. “I already have,” Victoria smiled. She reached into her trench coat with her free hand and pulled out a heavy, brass key. “This opens the safety deposit box at the Manhattan Trust. It holds the bearer bonds Arthur hid before he died. Sixty million dollars, untraceable. But I need your biometric scan to open the vault, Nathaniel.” She tossed the key onto the dashboard. I stared at the key. It looked incredibly old. It didn't look like a bank key at all. And then I remembered where I had seen a key like that before. My grandfather used to work at the old shipyards. That wasn't a bank key. That was a locker key for the private boat slips at the Brooklyn Marina. Victoria didn't know where the money was. She was bluffing to get Nathaniel to take her to the bank. I looked at Nathaniel. He was staring at the key, too. I could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes that he knew exactly what it was. He pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. The SUV surged forward, speeding past the exit for Long Island. “Where are you going?” Victoria demanded, pressing the gun harder against my side. “If you want the money,” Nathaniel said coldly, “we’re going to the marina.” Victoria’s eyes flashed with confusion, but she didn't argue. She thought she was winning. But she had just handed us the very thing we needed to bury her.
