Chapter 12 - The Commander’s Face
The tactical commander’s face emerged from the shadows of the swirling smoke, illuminated by the flashing red and blue cruiser lights outside. It was a face David had not seen in two years—Special Agent Vance, the federal lead investigator who had supposedly retired from the bureau after the 2021 financial scandal.
David stared up from the Persian rug, coughing from the residual tear gas as shock paralyzed his vocal cords. "Vance? You’re... you’re the one directing the raid?"
Agent Vance smiled coldly, walking slowly toward the Christmas tree and stepping casually over a shattered glass ornament. "Surprised to see me, David? You thought you buried the investigation when Marcus took the fall. You thought transferring out to the suburbs would let you enjoy your stolen millions in peace."
Sarah scrambled backward from the center of the room, her grip tightening on her revolver as she looked at the federal commander with utter betrayal. "Uncle Marcus? What are you talking about? You said the bureau was protecting us!"
Vance turned his gaze toward Sarah, his expression devoid of any familial warmth. "The bureau protects its own interests, Sarah. And your little solo vigilante mission almost ruined months of careful planning."
Clara slowly lifted her head from the rug, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow as she clutched the baby tightly against her chest. "You knew," she whispered, her voice laced with venom. "You knew about the recall on the onesies. You knew the toxic batch was circulating in this district."
Vance’s smile widened slightly, a truly chilling sight beneath the festive holiday lights. "A fortunate coincidence, Mrs. Miller. When our intelligence sources reported that David was hiding the missing restructuring ledgers inside his home safe, we needed a distraction. Something that would bring all of you together under one roof, distracted by grief, while my team quietly recovered the drive."
Elena slowly stood up from behind the dining table, her mother leaning heavily against her for support. "You monitored us," Elena said, her voice shaking with rage. "You watched us grieve over a dying child, and you used it as cover to break into our house?"
"Collateral damage," Vance replied dismissively, raising his submachine gun slightly to point it at David's chest. "Now, David. Where is the encrypted flash drive containing the 2021 transfer logs? You have exactly ten seconds to hand it over before my men finish clearing the rest of the house."
David slowly pushed himself up from the floor, keeping his body positioned protectively in front of Clara and the infant. His mind raced frantically, calculating every possible exit route in the smoke-filled, half-destroyed living room.
"It’s not in the house," David lied smoothly, his eyes locking onto Vance's finger on the trigger. "I mailed the drive to a secure federal drop-box in the city three days ago. If you shoot me, the data goes public automatically at midnight."
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Vance’s expression darkened instantly, a flash of genuine anger breaking through his calm facade. Before he could respond, a sudden, sharp clicking sound echoed from the dark hallway behind him—the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked.
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