Chapter 13
The phone screen went completely dark, leaving only the reflection of the hallway chandelier and the grim faces of the people standing around it. Detective Miller cursed under his breath, handing the dead phone back to Sarah as he unclipped his shoulder radio.
"All units, be advised, the suspect has terminated the connection and is moving to the tarmac," Detective Miller barked into the radio, his boots already pivoting toward the front door. "Lock down the perimeter of the West Kendall airstrip. Nobody moves in or out without my direct authorization."
Marcus grabbed his car keys from the console table by the door. "My car is faster than the cruisers in city traffic. I'm coming with you."
"Stay back, Mr. Vance," Detective Miller warned, his hand resting firmly on his holster. "This isn't a family reunion anymore. It's an armed apprehension."
"He's my brother," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a low, unyielding growl that brooked no argument. "And he's driving our father's plane. You need someone who knows the manual override codes for that specific Cessna's avionics, or he'll crash it into the residential zone before you even reach the runway."
Detective Miller stared at Marcus for a long, tense second, assessing the risk, then gave a sharp nod. "Get in the passenger seat of my unmarked unit. Mrs. Vance, you stay here with the deputies."
"I am not staying behind," Elena said, her voice carrying an absolute, terrifying finality as she walked past both of them toward the open front door. "He is my son. I brought him into this world, and I am going to be there when he answers for what he did."
Neither the detective nor Marcus argued further. They piled into the back of the unmarked police cruiser, the tires throwing up gravel as the vehicle rocketed down the suburban driveway and accelerated onto the highway toward the West Kendall airstrip with its siren wailing into the descending dusk.
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The ride took less than ten minutes, but to Elena, sitting silently in the back seat between Marcus and the partition, it felt like a lifetime. As they rounded the final bend of the access road leading to the airfield, the sight that met them made the blood run cold in their veins.
The heavy chain-link security gate of the private hangar was smashed flat across the pavement. In the center of the tarmac, the twin-engine Cessna was already taxiing down the runway, its propellers roaring against the evening wind with its navigation lights blinking frantically against the darkening sky.
