Chapter 7 - THE MARSHALS AT THE DOOR
Twenty minutes later, the blinding flash of red-and-blue cruiser lights painted our living room walls in dancing colors.
Two unmarked federal vehicles pulled up behind the black sedan Marcus Vance had left parked on our lawn.
Heavy boots crunched on the gravel walkway.
Three U.S. Marshals, accompanied by Agent Thomas from the FBI, stepped onto our porch.
I unlocked the front door and opened it slowly.
Agent Thomas looked relieved when he saw me standing unharmed with my mother behind me.
"Miss Mendez? Judge Pendelton called us directly," Agent Thomas said. "He said you have something for us."
I reached inside my shirt pocket and pulled out the yellowed, folded affidavit.
I handed it to the federal agent.
Agent Thomas unfolded the document under the porch light.
His eyes scanned the ink, moving rapidly down the page until they hit the notarized signature at the bottom.
A slow, grim smile spread across his face.
"Well," Agent Thomas whispered. "This explains why Julian Vance’s legal team panicked when he was arrested tonight."
"Can this put them away?" I asked.
"Not just Julian," Agent Thomas replied, looking up from the paper. "This implicates Marcus Vance, three sitting judges, and half the municipal police department. This is a RICO case."
Suddenly, headlights cut through the darkness of our quiet street.
A sleek, black luxury sedan barreled down the road, screeching to a halt right behind the federal vehicles.
The driver's door flew open.
Marcus Vance stepped out, his face twisted in absolute fury.
"What is the meaning of this?" Marcus yelled, storming up the walkway toward our porch.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Agent Thomas holding the open affidavit.
Color drained completely from Marcus’s face.
"You..." Marcus pointed a shaking finger at me. "You didn't have that in the box."
"No, Marcus," I said, stepping out onto the porch so I was standing directly in front of him. "My father was smarter than your entire legal team. He hid the truth where corporate thugs couldn't reach it."
Marcus lunged forward, his hands clawing toward the paper in Agent Thomas's hand.
"Give that to me! It's forged! It's—"
Before Marcus could take another step, two U.S. Marshals tackled him to the wooden porch boards, pinning his arms behind his back with brutal efficiency.
The irony was poetic.
Another Vance, pinned to the floor.
Only this time, they deserved it.
"Marcus Vance, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice, bribery, and conspiracy to commit arson," Agent Thomas recited, snapping the silver cuffs onto his wrists.
As they hauled Marcus up and shoved him into the back of a cruiser, he stared at me through the window with a look of pure, venomous hatred.
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"You think you've won?" Marcus screamed through the glass as the car door slammed shut. "Our lawyers will bury you before the week is over!"
"Let them try," I said softly, watching the tail-lights disappear down the dark street.
