Chapter 7 - The Trap
We spent the next four hours preparing. Elena managed to contact a trusted family attorney, Marcus Brody, who agreed to meet us directly at the Federal Building in San Antonio. Marcus had connections within the Department of Justice and assured us that if the documentation in the brown folder was genuine, federal agents would take immediate custody of the evidence and issue protective custody orders for April and me.
However, as we prepared to leave at noon, my phone rang. It was an unknown private number.
I answered, placing it on speaker so Elena could hear.
"Ignacio," Vance's voice was smooth, devoid of anger, which made it all the more chilling. "I see you've made it to your sister-in-law's property. You always were predictable."
My grip tightened on the receiver. "It's over, Vance. I have the files. I have the trial ledgers. Every single name, every line of financial compensation from Aethelgard."
A cold chuckle sounded over the line. "Do you really think a stack of paper matters, Ignacio? You're an unemployed, grieving widower who has been medically documented as unstable by your late wife's attending physician. That's me, by the way. I signed your psychological evaluation referral three weeks ago. Anything you say will be framed as a severe postpartum grief reaction with violent psychotic delusions."
"Try telling that to the FBI," I spat out.
"The FBI won't get the chance," Vance replied calmly. "Take a look out your front window, Ignacio."
I walked slowly toward the curtain, pulling it back half an inch. Parked at the end of the dirt driveway were two black sedans. Four men in suits were standing near the vehicles, watching the house.
"Those aren't policemen," Vance said quietly. "They are security contractors hired by Aethelgard to ensure corporate compliance. They don't care about legal warrants. Hand over the phone and the brown folder, Ignacio, and I promise you and the child will be allowed to leave Texas unharmed. Refuse, and... well, accidents happen to tragic families every day."
He hung up.
Elena looked at me, her face pale. "Ignacio, what do we do? We're trapped."
I looked at the window, then at the rear door leading to the wooded acres behind the house, and finally at April, who was lying peacefully in her basket.
May you like
"We aren't trapped," I said, a dangerous calm washing over me. "He thinks I'm the same broken man he's been watching for six weeks. He thinks I have nothing left to lose."
I turned to Elena. "Where does that old deer trail behind your barn lead?"
