Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
The night before the grand jury session, Jane stood on her porch, watching the sky. The bruising clouds of the funeral had given way to a sharp, clear, unforgiving winter night. The police had finally issued warrants for Thomas and Evelyn. The press had descended upon the family estate, turning the once-impenetrable fortress into a spectacle of infamy.
Marcus called her, his voice a jagged edge of panic. "They’re trying to flee, Jane. They have a private pilot on retainer. They think they can get to a non-extradition country."
"They won't get past the tarmac," Jane replied. She had already notified the authorities of the flight plan, a detail she’d gleaned from the hacked emails.
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She felt a strange sense of detachment. The anger that had fueled her for weeks was beginning to crystallize into a cold, diamond-hard resolve. She drove to the estate, not to stop them, but to watch. She parked in the shadows of the long driveway, witnessing the chaos. Blue and red lights danced against the white columns of the mansion. She saw her mother, wrapped in a fur coat, looking like a caged animal as the police led her away. She saw her father, his face contorted in a mask of rage, screaming at the officers about his lawyers and his rights.
As they were forced into the cruiser, Thomas’s eyes scanned the darkness and locked onto Jane’s car. He saw her. For a split second, the rage vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated fear. He realized then that it wasn't the police who had brought him down. It was his daughter. Jane turned her ignition and drove away, leaving the wreckage of her past to be processed by the legal system. She finally allowed herself a single, shaking breath. The storm had broken, and she was still standing.
