Chapter 12 - The Cold Depths
The shock of the freezing saltwater hit Arthur like a wall of solid ice, instantly stealing the breath from his lungs. The heavy wool of his grey suit soaked up the water like a lead weight, dragging him downward into the murky depths of the bay.
Beside him, Marcus thrashed wildly in the dark water, fighting against the dense fabric of his heavy black trench coat as the undercurrent pulled them both away from the wooden pylons of the dock. The pistol had slipped from the enforcer's hand, disappearing into the black abyss below.
Arthur kicked his legs furiously, fighting the crushing weight of his sodden clothing to keep his head above the rolling swells. Through the stinging salt in his eyes, he saw Marcus reaching desperately toward the surface, choking on a mouthful of bitter seawater.
"Help..." Marcus sputtered, his professional composure completely shattered by the primal terror of drowning.
Arthur paused for a fraction of a second, treading water a few feet away. Every instinct screamed at him to swim away, to let the cold depths claim the man who had terrorized his family and threatened his children's lives. But as the image of Leo and Maya shivering on the wooden pallet flashed through his mind, Arthur knew he couldn't let himself become a monster just to defeat one.
With a grimace, Arthur swam hard through the freezing current, reached out, and grabbed the collar of Marcus’s heavy trench coat, hauling the choking, half-conscious enforcer upward toward the surface.
A few moments later, Arthur dragged Marcus’s sputtering, dead weight onto the muddy shoreline fifty yards down from the pier. The enforcer collapsed onto the wet sand, coughing violently and vomiting seawater, completely incapacitated.
Arthur stood over him, shivering so violently his teeth chattered uncontrollably, wiping wet hair from his bruised forehead. He didn't look back at Marcus. He turned and broke into a heavy, exhausted jog back toward the dock where Leo and Maya were waiting.
When he reached the shipping containers, his breath caught in his throat.
The wool blanket lay abandoned on the wooden pallet. The pier was completely empty.
"Leo! Maya!" Arthur screamed, his voice cracking with sudden, overwhelming panic as he scanned the desolate shoreline.
A pair of flashing red and blue lights cut through the sleet in the distance, illuminating a convoy of unmarked black SUVs and federal squad cars roaring down the access road toward the cannery docks. The lead vehicle slid to a halt, kicking up a spray of gravel, and a tall man in a dark trench coat stepped out, holding a silver shield in his palm.
"Agent Miller, FBI Financial Crimes Division," the man shouted over the howling wind, holding his badge up against the glare of the cruiser lights. "Arthur Vance? Stand right where you are."
Arthur froze, raising his hands slowly as a dozen armed federal agents fanned out across the pier, surrounding him completely.
"Where are my children?" Arthur demanded, his voice ringing out with desperate fury. "What have you done with my children?"
Agent Miller lowered his badge, a grim, solemn expression settling across his weathered face as he stepped closer.
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"Mr. Vance, your wife just turned herself in at the downtown precinct," Miller said quietly. "And she didn't come alone."
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