Chapter 19 - The Showdown at Riverside Park
The night air was biting as I stepped out of my car near the darkened entrance of Riverside Park. The wind rustled through the massive oak trees, casting long, skeletal shadows across the paved walking paths that wound along the edge of the Scioto River. In the distance, the city skyline glowed like a jagged crown of neon and steel, indifferent to the violent drama playing out in the shadows below.
I wore a dark trench coat, my hands buried deep in the pockets. Hidden inside the right pocket was a compact federal audio transmitter Agent Vance had insisted I take, its tiny green light blinking softly against my palm.
I walked down the winding stone steps toward the historic wooden boathouse that sat at the edge of the dark, rushing water. The dock creaked under my boots with every step, the rhythmic splashing of the river sounding like heavy footsteps closing in from behind.
"I knew you'd come," a voice hissed from the deep shadows near the boathouse door.
I stopped dead in my tracks and turned.
Brittany stepped out from beneath the overhanging eaves of the roof. She looked different from the immaculate, haughty woman who had kicked me in her mother's kitchen three weeks ago. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, her jacket was stained with mud, and her eyes—wild, bloodshot, and frantic—glowed with the manic desperation of a cornered animal. But in her right hand, she held a compact, matte-black handgun, pointed directly at my chest.
"You look terrible, Brittany," I said, my voice cutting through the night air with absolute, chilling calm.
Brittany let out a harsh, barking laugh that held no humor. "Save the tough-guy act, Rachel. You're standing out here in the dark alone because you're terrified. Where is it? Do you have the key?"
Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my right hand out of my pocket, holding up the heavy gold-plated skeleton key by its ring. It caught the faint amber glow of the security light overhead, glinting coldly in the dark.
"I have it," I said. "Forty million dollars in crypto. Everything your mother and Kyle built on the backs of destroyed lives and corporate corruption."
Brittany’s eyes locked onto the key, a hungry, trembling greed distorting her features. She took a step forward, her hand shaking violently on the grip of the gun. "Throw it here. On the dock. And back away."
"I don't think so, Brittany," I replied, not moving an inch. "Not until you tell me how it feels."
Brittany froze, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"How does it feel to know that you lost?" I stepped closer, the adrenaline roaring in my ears like a freight train. "You thought you could kick me, throw me into surgery, and walk away clean. You thought money and fear could buy you immunity. But look at you now. Your mother is in a federal holding cell. Your husband is cutting a deal with the DOJ to save his own skin. And you are a fugitive, standing in the freezing dark, pointing a gun at an unarmed woman because you have nothing left."
"Shut up!" Brittany shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria as she raised the gun higher, her finger tightening on the trigger. "I'll kill you! I swear to God, I'll put a bullet through your heart right now!"
"Do it," I whispered, taking another deliberate step toward her, staring down the barrel of the gun without a flinch. "Do it, Brittany. And the moment you pull that trigger, the federal transmission currently broadcasting your confession to the U.S. Attorney’s office goes live. You won't even make it off this dock before the FBI seals every exit out of this state."
Brittany’s breath hitched. She looked down at my pocket, suddenly noticing the faint, blinking green light of the transmitter through the thin fabric.
Panic surged across her face. "You... you bitch!"
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With a furious scream, Brittany lunged forward, not to shoot, but to grab the key from my hand and push me off the wooden dock into the dark, churning waters of the river below.
***
