Chapter 13 - The Abandoned Pier
Julian didn't hesitate. With the primal instinct of a cornered predator, he shoved Gabriel toward Morgan, bolted toward the terrace fire escape, and cleared the iron railing with athletic precision, dropping down to the service alley below.
"Get off me!" Morgan shoved Gabriel back against the stone wall. The elderly chemist was frail, coughing violently as he dropped the burner phone onto the slate floor.
Behind them, the ballroom doors swung wide open. Helena Cross stood in the doorway, flanked by four plainclothes detectives from the Major Crimes Division, their badges gleaming under the exterior sconces.
"He went down the fire escape!" Morgan shouted, pointing over the railing. "He has an emergency vehicle parked in the delivery lane!"
"We have units stationed at the perimeter," Detective Miller barked, drawing his service weapon as two officers pinned Gabriel Richter to the stone floor, snapping zip-ties around his wrists. "He won't make it two blocks."
Morgan didn't wait to watch them secure the chemist. She scooped up Gabriel's dropped phone and sprinted back through the ballroom, ignoring the gasps and shocked whispers of the gala attendees as she tore through the gilded foyer and out into the rain-slicked night.
She knew Julian better than the detectives did. Julian never had a single contingency; his financial frauds were always structured with a secondary extraction route. In his private study, hidden behind the ledger files, she had seen maritime docking slips for *Pier 19*—an abandoned grain loading dock on the industrial waterfront.
Hailing a waiting taxi at the curb, Morgan threw a hundred-dollar bill at the driver. "Pier 19. Drive as fast as you can, and don't stop for red lights."
Ten minutes later, the cab screeched to a halt beside the rusted chain-link gates of the abandoned pier. The storm had intensified; rain fell in horizontal sheets, churning the black river water into whitecaps that slammed violently against the rotting timber pylons.
Morgan stepped out into the downpour, her emerald gown soaking through instantly, clinging to her skin like heavy armor. The pier was pitch black, illuminated only by the intermittent strobe of a distant navigation buoy.
At the far end of the wooden dock, an unmarked black speedboat hummed with a low, rumbling idle.
Standing on the slippery planks, hauling a waterproof duffle bag toward the boarding ramp, was Julian.
"Julian!" Morgan’s voice cut through the howling wind and the crashing waves.
Julian spun around, dropping the duffle bag. The pale harbor light caught the manic, feral grin stretching across his soaking wet face. He didn't look like an executive anymore. He looked like an animal that had stripped off its domestic skin.
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"You followed me, Morgan?" he yelled over the storm, taking three slow, deliberate steps back toward her. "You really couldn't just let the police handle it? You had to come and see the end for yourself?"
***
