Chapter 13 - Desperation Moves
The fallout from the mediation session was immediate and catastrophic for the Vance family.
By Tuesday afternoon, federal investigators had frozen every single account tied to *Vance Freight Solutions* and the Apex acquisition syndicate. Greg’s partners, realizing they were implicated in a corporate wire fraud investigation, immediately turned state’s evidence, throwing Greg completely under the bus.
Evelyn was formally indicted on state charges of attempted child abduction and felony violation of a protective order. Stripped of access to my accounts, Greg was forced to surrender his vehicle to a private repossession agency on Wednesday morning, as the lease payments had bounced three days prior.
They had nothing left. No money, no corporate leverage, no home, and no access to the twins.
Yet, as Frank had warned me, a trapped animal is at its most dangerous when it realizes there is no escape.
On Thursday evening, I left the terminal at 5:30 p.m. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the winter sky an ink-black void punctured by cold, biting stars. The security team at the terminal escorted me to my SUV, checking the perimeter before I pulled out onto the arterial highway.
Sadie and Theo were already buckled into their rear-facing car seats, softly cooing as the heater hummed through the cabin. I had picked them up five minutes earlier, double-checking their warm fleece suits and snug blankets.
"Almost home, my brave little team," I murmured, glancing in the rearview mirror. Sadie gave a sleepy kick with her pink booties, while Theo sucked contentedly on his pacifier.
As I took the off-ramp toward our quiet, wooded suburban neighborhood, I noticed a set of headlights lingering three car lengths behind me.
At first, I told myself it was ordinary evening traffic. But when I made an abrupt right turn onto Elmwood—a dead-end loop that led nowhere—the battered gray sedan followed, keeping its distance, running with only its amber parking lights illuminated.
My heart rate accelerated, but I didn't panic. Panic was for victims; preparation was for survivors.
I pressed the speed dial on my steering wheel. "Marcus."
"Still in the office, boss," Marcus’s voice boomed over the car speakers. "What's up?"
"I'm being followed. Gray sedan, older model Chevy Malibu, no headlights, just parking lights. License plate ending in 4-4-Niner."
"Hang on," Marcus said, the clatter of a keyboard echoing through the line. "Give me two seconds... that plate matches Evelyn Vance’s secondary vehicle registration. It’s registered to her sister’s maiden name in Ohio."
"She’s out on bail," I whispered, watching the rearview mirror as the sedan accelerated, closing the gap between us. "She’s violating her bench warrant."
"Don't go home, Carly!" Marcus shouted. "The private security guard at your house is changing shifts right now! Take the parkway to the precinct!"
"I can't make the parkway turn without crossing his front bumper," I said, realizing with sickening clarity that the driver wasn't trying to tail me covertly anymore.
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The gray sedan surged forward, its high beams suddenly blasting into my rearview mirror, blinding me with twin cones of violent white light. The engine roared as it sped up to ram my bumper.
***
