Chapter 11 - Screeching Tires on Route 9 and the Fall of the Mistress
"Suspects are fleeing northbound on Route 9 in a silver Porsche Cayenne, license plate Delta-Echo-Four-Nine!" Detective Miller’s voice barked through the tactical comms.
I was pulled into the lead command vehicle by Miller himself. Noah was secured in the rear seat with an armed tactical officer.
"Stay down, Sarah!" Miller commanded as our heavy armored Suburban accelerated, sirens screaming at maximum volume.
Ahead of us, Evelyn drove like a maniac possessed by sheer desperation. She weaved through early morning commuter traffic at over ninety miles per hour, clipping side mirrors, swerving onto the gravel shoulders, and blowing through red lights.
Daniel was visible through the Porsche's tinted rear window, frantically typing on a laptop mounted to the dashboard—attempting to wire Vance Capital’s remaining liquidated funds into offshore Swiss accounts before the federal injunction froze his digital access.
"Oakridge PD has deployed spike strips at the Route 9 bridge junction!" the radio operator announced.
Up ahead, two state trooper cruisers blocked the four-lane highway at the entrance of the suspension bridge over the Blackwood River. A wide band of hollow steel tire-deflation spikes was laid across the asphalt.
Evelyn saw the roadblock too late.
She attempted to violently jerk the steering wheel toward the dirt embankment at eighty miles per hour.
POP-POP-POP-POP!
All four high-performance tires shredded instantly. The Porsche lost total traction, spinning violently across three lanes of traffic in a cloud of burning rubber and flying sparks. The vehicle struck the heavy concrete bridge barrier sideways, flipping once into the air before crashing down onto its roof with a deafening metallic screech.
The Porsche slid fifty yards on its crushed roof, finally coming to a smoking halt against the bridge guardrail.
Police cruisers swarmed the wreckage instantly. Dozens of officers surrounded the vehicle with weapons drawn.
"DRIVER AND PASSENGER! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
Smoke poured from the crumpled engine bay.
The driver’s side door was kicked open from the inside. Evelyn Cross dragged herself out onto the shattered glass of the highway, her designer dress shredded, her face covered in soot and blood, coughing hysterically.
"I didn't do it! It was Daniel! He planned the whole thing!" Evelyn screamed, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at the wreckage. "He forced me! He embezzled the money!"
"Save it for your father's former colleagues, Ms. Cross," Detective Miller said coldly, stepping forward and clamping heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists. "You're facing attempted first-degree murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and interstate wire fraud."
On the passenger side, tactical officers dragged Daniel Vance from the crushed cabin.
His face was bruised and bloody, his multi-thousand-dollar suit ruined, his laptop smashed to pieces on the asphalt. As the officers forced him to his knees, his wild, terrified eyes locked onto mine as I stepped out of the command vehicle.
Noah walked up beside me, standing tall, his shoulders back, looking down at the man who had tried to erase his existence.
"Noah... please..." Daniel wheezed, blood dripping from his lip. "Noah, I'm your father... tell them to stop... tell them I love you..."
May you like
Noah looked at Daniel with absolute, unyielding clarity.
"My father died the moment you put poison in my food," Noah said, his voice ringing loud and clear over the hum of the police engines. "You're just a monster going to prison."
