Chapter 6 - Confrontation in the Study
Harrison’s accomplice knelt beside the bookshelf, pulling a heavy flathead screwdriver from his jacket pocket. He jammed the metal tip into the screw slot of the brass vent cover, turning it hard against the rusted threads.
Screeech.
The metal groaned in the quiet room.
I couldn't wait any longer.
With a hard shove, I pushed the wooden panel of my secret hiding spot completely open. It swung backward with a sharp bang against the wall, startling both men instantly.
"What the—?" Harrison spun around, his eyes widening in shock as I stepped out from the hidden corridor directly into the study.
"Looking for this, Harrison?" I asked, my voice steady and cold, belying the absolute terror clawing at my chest.
In one swift movement, I dropped to my knees beside the bookshelf, grabbed the edge of the brass vent cover before the accomplice could pull it completely off, and yanked it free from the wall. Deep inside the dark cavity of the duct, my fingers brushed against a small, heavy object wrapped in oilcloth.
I pulled it out just as Harrison lunged forward to grab my wrist.
"Give me that!" Harrison roared, his face twisting with rage.
I scrambled backward, dodging his grasp, and scrambled to my feet, clutching the oilcloth package tightly against my chest.
The accomplice stepped into my path, blocking the doorway to the hallway. "Hand it over, lady, or this gets ugly."
"It's already ugly," a sharp voice echoed from the doorway behind them.
Both men froze.
Standing in the study doorway, holding a heavy iron fireplace poker like a baseball bat, was Mara. Behind her, the flashing red and blue lights of three sheriff's cruisers illuminated the pine trees outside through the front windows.
"Drop it," Mara said, her voice icy and uncompromising. "The house is surrounded. State police are at the front and back doors."
Harrison glanced toward the window, seeing the reflection of the cruiser lights flashing against the glass. The color drained from his face as he realized his escape route was completely cut off.
"You think this drive saves you?" Harrison snarled, glaring at me with venomous hatred. "Vane Industries owns half the judges in this state. You'll never see a courtroom."
"Maybe not," a deep, authoritative voice boomed from the hallway as heavy footsteps approached. "But federal marshals handle corporate homicide cases differently."
A tall man in a dark federal jacket stepped into the study, flanked by two armed state troopers. He flashed a federal badge directly into Harrison’s face.
"Director Harrison, you're under arrest for securities fraud, corporate espionage, and the unlawful death investigation of Daniel Reynolds," the federal agent stated firmly.
The troopers moved in instantly, forcing Harrison and his accomplice down to the floor and clicking steel handcuffs onto their wrists with practiced efficiency.
As Harrison was dragged past me toward the stairs, he muttered, "You'll never open that drive, Emma. It's military-grade encrypted. Without Daniel's biometric key, it's just an expensive paperweight."
I looked down at the small metal drive in my hand, then straight into Harrison's eyes.
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"You forgot one thing, Harrison," I said quietly. "Daniel taught our daughter how to use his old engineering passcodes before she could even write her own name."
Harrison's smug expression finally shattered.
