Chapter 6 – THE MAN IN THE SILVER TRUCK

“Get her out of the house?” I murmured, staring at Arthur’s text message. My hands began to tremble again.

“Ma’am?” the taller police officer asked, noticing my pale face. “Are you alright?”

“We need to leave,” I said urgently, grabbing Rebecca’s arm. “Right now.”

The second officer walked up the stairs, holding Sophie gently against his chest. The little girl was crying softly, her face buried in his uniform shoulder.

“She’s unharmed,” the officer assured us. “Just very scared.”

Rebecca let out a choked sob and ran to her daughter, burying her face in Sophie’s neck. “Mommy’s here, baby. I’ve got you.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Becky!” Nathan yelled as the officers shoved him toward the stairs. “That ledger was real! Doug swapped it! He set me up!”

I ignored him. I didn’t care about Nathan’s frantic accusations. I only cared about Arthur’s warning.

I grabbed my purse. “Officers, can we leave? We need to get my daughter medical attention for her lip.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the taller officer nodded. “We have the scene secured. We’ll need statements from you both later at the precinct.”

I ushered Rebecca and Sophie down the stairs, stepping carefully around the broken crystal in the living room. We walked out the front door into the freezing rain.

Nathan’s silver pickup truck was still parked diagonally across my lawn, its heavy tires sunk deep into the mud.

As we hurried past it toward my car, I noticed something strange.

The engine of Nathan’s truck was still running. A faint plume of white exhaust curled into the damp air.

“Mom, hurry,” Rebecca urged, shivering as she shielded Sophie from the rain.

I unlocked my car, and Rebecca climbed into the back seat with Sophie. I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

Before I could shift into reverse, my phone rang. It was Arthur.

I answered it on speaker. “Arthur, we’re out of the house. The police have Nathan. What did you find in his safe?”

Arthur’s voice was tight, breathless. “Carol, I found the blackmail contract. The original one.”

“So Nathan had it,” I said, putting the car in gear.

“Yes,” Arthur said quickly. “But there’s an addendum attached to it. A second page, signed by Douglas just three days ago.”

I hit the brakes. “Three days ago? What did he sign?”

“Douglas signed over the deed to your house,” Arthur revealed, his voice grim. “To Nathan. Nathan owns your property, Carol.”

My stomach dropped. “That’s impossible. My name is on the deed. Douglas can’t sell it without my signature.”

“He didn’t sell it,” Arthur explained. “He transferred it using a forged power of attorney. Nathan extorted him for the property. That’s why Nathan went to your house tonight. He didn’t just go for Rebecca. He went to legally evict you.”

I stared through the rain-streaked windshield at my home of thirty-two years. The house where I raised my daughter. The house Nathan now legally owned on paper.

“But that’s not the worst part,” Arthur continued, his tone dropping ominously. “There was a third document in the safe. A life insurance policy. Nathan took out a massive policy on Rebecca six months ago. Two million dollars.”

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

“He wasn’t going to drag her home to abuse her anymore, Carol,” Arthur said softly. “He was going to kill her. And he was going to use your house to stage it.”

I looked in the rearview mirror at my beautiful daughter, holding her sleeping child in the back seat. Nathan hadn’t been fighting to keep his marriage. He had been setting up a murder for profit.

“He’s in police custody, Arthur,” I said, my voice shaking with a terrifying mixture of relief and fury. “He can’t hurt her now.”

“Carol,” Arthur warned. “Nathan is a coward. He wouldn’t risk staging a murder himself. He would hire someone.”

My eyes shot to the silver pickup truck idling on my lawn.

Nathan had driven here in a blind rage. Why would he leave the engine running if he planned to go inside and fight with me?

Unless he wasn’t alone.

I stared at the dark, tinted windows of the silver truck.

Slowly, the driver’s side window rolled down.

Sitting in the driver’s seat wasn’t Nathan.

It was a man wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt, a surgical mask obscuring the lower half of his face.

And he was pointing a suppressed handgun directly at my windshield.

“Get down!” I screamed, slamming my hand onto the back of Rebecca’s head, shoving her below the window line.

I threw the car into reverse and slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

The heavy thud of suppressed gunfire echoed faintly over the rain.

The windshield shattered, a spiderweb of cracked safety glass exploding inward. A bullet tore through the passenger headrest, inches from where I was sitting.

My car rocketed backward down the driveway, the rear tires catching the curb and launching the vehicle violently into the street.

The man in the truck didn’t hesitate. He threw the silver pickup into drive, its massive tires tearing up huge chunks of my front lawn as he accelerated directly toward us.

Share