Chapter 6 - The Storm BreaksWednesday morning arrived under a heavy grey sky. The ocean breeze brought the smell of rain.
I pulled my truck up to the Whitmore estate at 6:50 AM. My hands were clammy on the steering wheel, but my mind was completely focused.
I unlocked the side gate, carrying my heavy plastic tool container inside. The backyard was silent. The pool water was calm, reflecting the dark overcast clouds above.
At 7:05 AM, the back patio door opened.
Clara stepped out, wearing jeans and a dark raincoat. She carried a small leather backpack over her shoulder. Her face was pale, but her eyes were burning with determination.
"I have the files," she whispered, walking rapidly toward the pool edge where I stood. "All of them. The tax returns, the offshore accounts, the real estate deeds."
"Good," I said, opening the large bottom compartment of my commercial pool chemical box. "Put them in here. It’s waterproof and opaque. No one will see them."
She quickly slid the thick accordion folder into the box, and I snapped the heavy latches shut.
Suddenly, the side gate swung open with a violent crash.
Richard Whitmore walked into the yard, flanked by two burly men in dark suits—his private security detail. His face was twisted in a mask of rage, his expensive suit jacket unbuttoned.
"I knew it," Richard snarled, stepping onto the stone patio. "I knew you were up to something with this trash."
Clara instinctively stepped behind me. I stood my ground, placing myself between Richard and Clara, my boots planted firmly on the stone pavers.
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"Get out of my way, boy," Richard spat, glaring at me with raw contempt. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."
"She’s leaving with me, Mr. Whitmore," I said, my voice dead calm. "And there’s nothing you can do to stop her."
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