Chapter 13 - Shadows at the Gate
Two weeks passed without incident. The transition into my new role as Senior Operations Director was seamless, and the federal task force was operating at peak efficiency. Trent’s trial was moving quickly through the federal court system, backed by an airtight mountain of financial evidence that left his high-priced defense attorneys scrambling for a plea deal.
It was a crisp Friday evening when the illusion of safety shattered.
I was working late at my desk, reviewing a series of suspicious wire transfers linked to an overseas shell corporation, when the direct line on my desk began to blink—not the standard office extension, but the high-priority encrypted line connected directly to the perimeter security gate of my private residence.
I hit the speaker button instantly. "Ellison here. Report."
"Director, this is Sergeant Vance at your residential security post," a tense voice crackled through the speaker. "We have an unauthorized vehicle parked half a mile down your private access road. It's a dark sedan, plates obscured. Our automated license plate reader flagged it as a rental registered under a false identity."
My blood ran cold. "Has anyone approached the house?"
"Negative, ma'am. The perimeter sensors haven't been breached, but the vehicle has been idling there for over twenty minutes. We dispatched a patrol unit to investigate, but when our officers rounded the bend, the vehicle accelerated and sped off into the wooded state park service roads."
"Did you get a visual on the driver?" I demanded, standing up and reaching for my service weapon locked in the desk drawer.
"It was too dark, ma'am, tinted windows," the guard replied. "But... our traffic camera caught a brief reflection of the passenger side window as it turned. There was a woman in the front seat. Blond hair, matching the general description of your sister."
A knot tightened in my chest. Chloe wasn't just desperate; she was erratic. If she blamed me for the total destruction of her life, there was no telling what kind of irrational revenge she might attempt—or who she might have hired now that Trent was behind bars.
May you like
"Double the perimeter patrols," I ordered, my voice dropping into its coldest, most lethal tactical register. "Log every vehicle entering the zip code. And if that sedan comes back within sight of my property, do not wait for my permission—intercept and detain."
***
