Chapter 13 - The Glitch in His Story
At 6:30 PM, the rain turned into a biting sleet over Bay Harbor.
The marina was a labyrinth of wooden floating docks, rocking luxury cruisers, and howling winds. Slip 44 sat at the furthest finger of the outer pier, shrouded by heavy sea mist.
A quarter-mile away, inside an unmarked black surveillance van, I sat beside Agent Diaz. Headsets crackled with the low murmurs of tactical units positioning themselves behind fuel tanks and shipping containers.
“Team One in position,” a voice whispered over the comms. “Target vessel *The Alibi* is running its auxiliary generator. Two targets spotted in the salon cabin.”
“Mrs. Vance,” Diaz said, nodding toward my phone. “Put him on speaker. Keep him talking. We need him on the open dock away from any weapons inside the cabin.”
I tapped Julian’s number.
It rang three times. He picked up.
“Nora?” His voice was breathy, strained. “Did you make it to the Grandview?”
“Julian,” I sobbed, putting every ounce of desperation into my throat. “I’m not at the hotel. I couldn't go.”
“What? Nora, what are you talking about?! I told you to go to the Grandview!” His control was slipping; the annoyance was bleeding through his fake concern.
“I had to see it,” I wept. “I drove back to the house. Julian, the fire marshals... they were digging through the rubble. They found the lockbox.”
Dead silence. The line turned so quiet I could hear the rhythmic hum of *The Alibi’s* generator through his receiver.
“What... what lockbox?” Julian whispered.
“The one in Lily’s dollhouse,” I cried. “They found the cash, Julian. And they found the papers. The marriage certificate to Victoria Sterling.”
A sharp intake of breath. Over the comms, the sniper’s voice cut in: *“Target Male just stepped out onto the aft deck. He’s agitated. Phone to his ear.”*
“Nora,” Julian spoke, his voice completely devoid of warmth now. The mask was ripped off. “Where are you right now?”
“I have the box, Julian,” I said, my tone hardening just enough to bait him. “The fire marshals stepped away to get bolt cutters, and I took it from the scene. I know everything. I know about Victoria. I know about the four million dollars. And I’m standing at the entrance of the Bay Harbor Yacht Club.”
Julian froze on the dock. Through the surveillance monitor in the van, I saw his thermal silhouette stiffen.
“You’re at Bay Harbor?” he rasped.
“You left the slip rental receipt on your office desk last week,” I lied smoothly. “I wasn't stupid, Julian. I just trusted you. Did you really think you could burn our home down and sail away with her?”
“Nora, listen to me,” Julian hissed, stepping off the gangway onto the wooden finger pier, looking frantically toward the marina parking lot. “You don't understand what you’re dealing with. Those people in Chicago... the investors... they were going to kill us! I had to stage this! I did it to protect you and Lily!”
May you like
“You rigged a propane tank under my bed, Julian,” I said, my voice dropping all pretense of grief. “Did you do that to protect me too?”
***
