Chapter 6 - Blood on the Asphalt
The rain beat relentlessly against the shattered glass of the police transport van. Blue strobe lights flickered against the damp suspension cables of the bridge, painting the scene in macabre shades of cobalt. Two police cruisers were crushed like aluminum cans against the guardrail.
Mark arrived ten minutes later. He stepped out into the freezing deluge, leaving Leo in the armored SUV under the watchful eyes of three vetted mercenaries.
Detective Vance stood near the twisted wreckage, wiping rain from his brow. ""One officer dead. Two critically wounded. They hit the convoy with an armored dump truck, blew the back doors off with linear shape charges, and dragged Victoria into a black speedboat waiting on the river below.""
""Did they rescue her or abduct her?"" Mark demanded, staring down at the churning black water beneath the bridge.
""Rescue?"" Vance let out a bitter scoff. ""Look at the asphalt, Mark.""
Vance shone a heavy tactical flashlight onto the concrete roadway. Drag marks led from the van's shattered chassis to the edge of the railing, smeared with dark, thick blood. Next to the railing lay a broken gold pearl earring—the matching piece to the one Victoria wore when she dropped Leo from the balcony.
""She fought them,"" Vance said grimly. ""Whoever pulled her out didn't do it to save her. They took her to keep her quiet. If she testified in court, she would have named her co-conspirators.""
""Julian,"" Mark muttered, his jaw aching from tension.
""We don't have jurisdiction to arrest your brother on circumstantial suspicion,"" Vance replied. ""The board recognized him as interim CEO two hours ago. His lawyers filed an emergency injunction barring me from serving subpoenas on his accounts.""
Suddenly, Elena the maid stepped out from the passenger seat of Mark's vehicle. She had refused to leave the child's side since the incident in the foyer. She approached Vance with a small, waterlogged leather book clutched against her chest.
""Mr. Mark,"" Elena called out, her voice trembling against the roar of the wind. ""Before Mrs. Eleanor fled the mansion, she tried to burn her private desk in the study. I threw water on the grate and pulled this from the ashes.""
Mark took the blackened diary. The leather was charred, but the inner pages were preserved. He flipped through the dates, recognizing Eleanor's sharp, aristocratic handwriting.
May you like
On the final entry, dated three days before Leo’s fall, was a single sentence:
“The swap was successful at Saint Jude’s. Julian believes the child is his. Mark believes the child is his. Neither must ever learn who the mother really is.”
