Chapter 7 - The Police Scanner Warning
The distorted voice crackling over the dashboard radio spoke in clipped, urgent code. "All units, be advised. We have a domestic disturbance and potential kidnapping call originating from St. Jude’s parish. Suspect is traveling in a high-end black sedan, victim described as an adult female in a white bridal gown. Proceed with caution; primary suspect is connected to a federal financial crimes task force investigation."
Clara stared at the radio in horror, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth. "They’re twisting the narrative. Mark called the police and told them I was the one abducted, or that I’m unstable."
Jax cursed under her breath, slamming her hand against the steering wheel as she flicked off the scanner frequency. "Classic play. Control the narrative before the victim can reach an authority figure. They’ve already got the local precinct in their pocket. If you walk into a standard police station right now wearing that dress, they’ll hand you right back to Mark with a polite smile and a psych evaluation."
"Then where do we go?" Clara asked, her voice trembling slightly as she looked out the rain-streaked window at the monotonous gray industrial buildings passing by. "If the police are compromised, and my family’s lawyers are on Mark’s payroll, who is left?"
Jax slowed the truck down, navigating into a dimly lit alley behind a row of abandoned warehouses near the harbor. The rain was finally beginning to taper off into a miserable, persistent drizzle, casting a greasy sheen over the puddles on the ground.
"We go underground," Jax said, cutting the engine. The sudden silence inside the cab was deafening, broken only by the ticking of the cooling engine block. "I have a contact. An old federal investigator who was forced out of the bureau five years ago when he got too close to Julian Vance’s money laundering operation. If anyone can authenticate that letter and get it to the right district attorney without it disappearing into an evidence locker black hole, it’s him."
Clara clutched the wet paper tighter to her chest, feeling the sharp edges dig into her palm. She looked down at her ruined wedding dress—the mud, the tears in the silk, the wilted roses scattered on the floorboards. The girl who had walked into that church an hour ago was completely gone. In her place was someone far more dangerous: a woman with nothing left to lose.
"Take me to him," Clara said, her voice steady and resolute.
Jax nodded approvingly, reaching into her jacket pocket to pull out a burner phone. She dialed a quick sequence of numbers and held it to her ear, waiting through three long rings.
"Miller? It's Jax," she said into the receiver, her eyes fixed on the rear-view mirror. "I've got an uninvited guest in a muddy wedding dress and a piece of paper that’s going to blow Julian Vance’s entire empire wide open. Start the coffee."
May you like
Jax hung up the phone just as a pair of blinding headlights suddenly swept across the alley wall behind them.
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