Chapter 24 - The Federal Arrival
The noxious, chemical-laced mist never reached Margaret’s face. Before Victoria’s finger could depress the nozzle, the heavy silence of the island was broken by the sharp, authoritative wail of marine sirens slicing through the mist from both sides of the cove. From around the rocky headland, two unmarked Coast Guard interceptor boats roared into view, their blue and red emergency strobes cutting furiously through the gray gloom. Simultaneously, the heavy thrum of a second, much larger military-grade helicopter—this one bearing federal insignia—swept down from the low cloud cover, hovering directly overhead and kicking up a violent vortex of wind and spray that flattened the surrounding shrubbery. Victoria froze, the can of drain cleaner slipping from her trembling fingers to shatter uselessly against the flagstones at her feet. She looked up in sheer horror as armed federal marshals fast-roped down from the hovering chopper onto the lawn beside the cottage, their tactical gear glistening with rain, their weapons drawn and trained directly on her. "Federal Marshals! Do not move! Drop to your knees, hands behind your head!" the lead agent barked through a bullhorn, his voice echoing off the cliffside walls. Victoria staggered backward against the iron gate, her manic defiance instantly evaporating into a shivering, whimpering panic. "No! No, you can't! I was pardoned! I have paperwork!" she shrieked, clutching her head as two agents rushed the gate, pulling it open with a metallic crash that echoed the end of her delusions. They pinned her to the wet earth with practiced efficiency, slapping heavy steel cuffs onto her wrists while she thrashed and screamed obscenities into the mud. Margaret stood watching from the steps, her expression unchanged as the agents hauled Victoria to her feet, dragging the sobbing, broken woman toward the waiting boat. As they pushed Victoria toward the ramp, the former bride caught one final glimpse of Margaret standing tall against the wind. Margaret didn't smile, nor did she frown. She simply turned her back, walked slowly back inside the warm, secure walls of the cottage, and clicked the heavy oak door shut.
