Chapter 9: The Headlights in the Woods
The sudden glare of high-beam headlights pinned David against the trunk of the oak tree like an insect under glass. A heavy-duty black SUV tore through the dense brush, its tires churning up mud and throwing sheets of wet earth into the air as it screeched to a halt mere feet from where the brothers stood.
David didn't flinch. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding light, a smug smile still lingering on his scarred lips.
The passenger door of the SUV swung open, and Officer Miller emerged with his weapon raised, though he hesitated as he saw the two brothers standing face-to-face. "Freeze! Both of you! Drop your weapons!" Miller yelled, though Marcus was holding nothing heavier than a plastic flashlight.
From the driver's seat, a second figure stepped out—not a police officer, but a tall, imposing man in a tailored gray suit that seemed entirely out of place in the muddy wilderness. It was Arthur Pendelton, looking remarkably spry for a man supposedly suffering from late-stage dementia.
"Put the gun away, Officer," Pendelton said smoothly, his voice carrying the calm, authoritative weight of a man who had bought and sold half the county’s judges over a forty-year career. "You’re pointing it at the rightful trustee of the Vance estate."
Marcus spun around, pointing a shaking finger at the elderly attorney. "Pendelton! You fraudulent bastard! You helped them fake a death and steal my mother's home!"
Pendelton adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles, offering a patronizing smile. "I didn't steal anything, Mr. Vance. I merely executed the legally binding instructions left by the patriarch of this family before he passed. Helen Vance signed away her controlling shares in ninety-seven. She was never the owner; she was merely a custodian."
Marcus took a step toward the lawyer, his fists clenched so tightly his fingernails dug into his palms. "Where is my mother?"
David chuckled softly from the shadows of the tree. "She’s right where she belongs, little brother. Warm, dry, and resting comfortably in the back of the SUV."
Marcus ignored David and lunged past Officer Miller, throwing open the rear door of the black SUV. Inside, lying across the leather seat wrapped in a thick wool blanket, Helen Vance lay with her eyes closed, breathing evenly. But as Marcus reached out to touch her wrist, he noticed a thin, translucent oxygen tube taped beneath her nose, connected to a heavy medical machine humming quietly on the floorboards.
"She’s sedated," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register as he looked back at David and Pendelton. "You drugged an elderly woman."
"We saved her life," Pendelton corrected coldly, walking over to the side of the vehicle. "Her heart was failing under the stress of your little domestic drama tonight, Marcus. We provided the medical stabilization she so desperately needed. Which is more than I can say for your wife, who is currently sitting in a jail cell with no bail."
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Marcus gripped the door frame until his knuckles turned white. "You abandoned Clara the moment she got caught."
"Clara was a tool," David said, stepping up beside the attorney and leaning against the SUV door. "A blunt instrument we used to test your resolve. And frankly, Marcus? You failed. You let her abuse our mother for three years just so you could build a case against me."
