Chapter 9 - Handcuffs and Ruin
He didn't get five steps before the sirens announced the final act.
Three black-and-white cruisers from the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Office swept around the fountain, gravel spraying against the decorative hedges. Behind them was an unmarked sedan carrying two state investigators from the Oregon Financial Crimes Division.
Bradley Finch tried to slip through the side entrance into the service wing, but two deputies intercepted him at the kitchen doors, pinning his arms behind his back.
"Bradley Finch? You're under arrest for commercial bribery, reckless endangerment, and filing fraudulent safety inspection reports with the State of Oregon," an officer announced.
Darcy stood frozen, staring at the engagement ring half-buried in the dirt, her expensive veil flapping violently in the rising coastal gale.
The lead investigator, a tall woman with a badge clipped to her belt, walked straight toward Darcy.
"Darcy Vance?"
"I didn't do anything!" Darcy shrieked, backing toward her mother. "It was a mistake! Sloane gave me permission! Sloane, tell them! Tell them you let me use the card!"
"She's lying," Marcus Sterling said, stepping forward with his tablet. "Here is the sworn deposition from Ms. Sloane Vance, the corporate cardholder, along with the device geolocation logs proving Ms. Sloane Vance was in an emergency surgical suite at the time the transactions were processed via a mobile device utilizing the resort’s private guest Wi-Fi registered to Darcy Vance."
The investigator didn't hesitate. She took Darcy’s left arm.
"Darcy Vance, you are under arrest for felony identity theft, grand larceny, wire fraud, and aggravated assault causing severe bodily injury."
"Mom! Dad! Stop them!" Darcy wailed, thrashing against the cold steel of the handcuffs as they clicked around her wrists. "Don't touch me! This dress costs twenty thousand dollars! Get your hands off me!"
"Let go of my daughter!" Imogen charged forward, her manicured fingers clawing at the investigator’s coat. "Do you know who we are? We are the Vances! We are—"
"Imogen Vance?" a second deputy said, stepping in and catching her wrists in a firm grip. "You are under arrest for tampering with evidence and unlawful possession of a Schedule II controlled substance."
Imogen stopped dead, her eyes bulging. "What?"
"We have security footage from the historic wing hallway showing you entering your daughter Sloane’s room yesterday afternoon, and we have recovered the empty prescription bottle from the maintenance plumbing trap where you attempted to flush forty Oxycodone tablets prescribed to a surgical patient."
"No!" Imogen gasped, her knees giving out. "That was a domestic matter! She’s my daughter! I have the right to manage her medication!"
"You don't have the right to commit felony distribution and destruction of controlled narcotics, ma'am," the deputy replied coldly, wrenching her hands behind her back.
Gideon stood alone in the center of the driveway, surrounded by wealthy wedding guests who were hurriedly dragging their suitcases to their cars, avoiding his gaze as if he were carrying a contagious plague. The string quartet had packed their instruments. The caterers were loading their trucks.
The wind howled off the ocean, catching the red fire marshal tape that sealed the Grand Horizon Ballroom, whipping it against the glass windows like a warning flag.
May you like
Darcy was shoved into the back of the cruiser, her white gown crushed against the plastic partition, screaming obscenities through the glass until the cruiser rolled down the hill toward the highway.
***
