Chapter 7 - The Shadow of Eleanor
Before Carter’s hand could clear his lapel, the darkness surrounding Hangar 4 erupted into blinding, kaleidoscopic light.
Four heavy armored Suburbans crashed through the security perimeter fences, their high-intensity pursuit strobes painting the rain-soaked tarmac in violent pulses of red, blue, and white. Sirens wailed, cutting through the thunder like a chorus of judgment.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP THE WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!"
The amplified voice boomed from a tactical loudspeaker mounted on the lead SUV. A dozen FBI agents in tactical gear poured out into the rain, high-powered carbines leveled directly at Carter’s chest.
Carter froze, his hand still buried inside his coat. His breath hitched in his throat as the red laser dots of three sniper scopes converged on his forehead.
"Carter," Daniel said, not moving an inch, his eyes locked onto his cousin’s trembling hand. "Pull that gun. Please. Give them a reason."
Carter looked at the perimeter. He looked at the laser dots burning against his skin. He looked at Vanessa, who was weeping in the puddle, curled into a ball of ruined silk and mascara.
Slowly, with trembling fingers, Carter slid his empty hand out of his coat, letting the revolver slip through his fingers. It clattered against the wet concrete.
"Hands behind your head! On the ground! Both of you!" the agents screamed as they rushed the tarmac.
Within seconds, Carter was shoved facedown onto the frigid runway, his arms wrenched behind his back as heavy steel handcuffs snapped around his wrists. Vanessa offered no resistance; she allowed two female agents to haul her to her feet, her body limp, her eyes vacant and dead.
Special Agent in Charge Harrison walked through the perimeter, holding an umbrella over Daniel.
"We tapped the Swiss accounts twenty minutes ago, Mr. Sterling," Harrison said grimly. "The paper trail connects Carter directly to the mechanic who tampered with Eleanor’s vehicle in Asheville. We have the mechanic in custody in Charlotte. He rolled an hour ago."
Daniel closed his eyes. The rain poured over his upturned face, washing away the heat, the rage, leaving behind an infinite, hollow ache.
It was over.
Eleanor hadn't died from negligence. She hadn't left him. She had been murdered defending their family, and for five years, Daniel had harbored the viper who struck her down.
"Mr. Sterling?" Harrison asked gently. "We need you to come to the field office to give a formal statement."
"Give me a minute," Daniel murmured.
He walked over to the police cruiser where Carter was being forced into the back seat. Carter’s face was bruised from the asphalt, his wet hair plastered across his eyes.
Daniel leaned down to the open window.
"Arthur was right about one thing, Carter," Daniel said softly.
Carter glared up at him through swollen eyelids, spitting blood onto the floor mats. "What’s that, cousin?"
"You were never a Sterling. You were just an employee."
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Daniel turned his back on his cousin, walking away into the storm as the cruiser door slammed shut.
***
