Chapter 8: The Road to Milwaukee
The morning sun broke through the dense canopy of Wisconsin pines, casting bright, erratic shafts of light across the dirt road as Julian loaded the duffel bag back into the trunk of the sedan. Clara dressed in a heavy wool sweater and thick denim trousers, her movements deliberate and focused, feeling a strange, unfamiliar surge of strength coursing through her veins. They left the cabin behind, locking the heavy oak door and hiding the key beneath a flat stone as they had practiced the night before. The drive south toward Milwaukee was tense, the radio tuned to a local station playing low, static-filled folk music that did little to soothe their nerves. As they approached the city limits, the skyline of Milwaukee rose up beside Lake Michigan, its industrial brick warehouses and modern office towers looking entirely peaceful compared to the glittering, predatory spires of Chicago. Julian exited the interstate near the historic Third Ward, navigating the narrow brick streets until he pulled up behind a modest, red-brick federal courthouse with limestone pillars. "Stay in the car, Clara. Lock the doors," Julian instructed, checking his watch. "I’m meeting Assistant U.S. Attorney David Miller in the basement parking garage. I’ll be back in twenty minutes." Clara nodded, gripping the strap of her purse as Julian stepped out into the crisp autumn air, disappearing down the concrete ramp of the garage entrance. The next twenty minutes stretched out like an eternity; every passing pedestrian made Clara’s heart leap into her throat, and every distant siren sounded like an approaching police cruiser sent by Eleanor. Exactly nineteen minutes later, Julian reappeared at the driver's side door, his expression unreadable as he slid back into the seat and slammed the door shut. He turned to Clara, a slow, grim smile finally breaking across his tense face. "He took the files," Julian whispered. "Miller is putting together a federal grand jury subpoena as we speak. My mother won't know what hit her until the marshals are knocking on her mahogany door."
