Chapter 4 - The Thunder on the Lawn
Downstairs in the grand dining room, Frank, Brian, Roger, and Victor Rossi were raising crystal tumblers of twenty-year-old scotch.
"To the future of Shawnee County," Frank toasted with an arrogant smirk. "And to partnerships that reward loyalty."
Suddenly, the front double doors were blown inward with a concussive, deafening explosion.
Shattered oak, drywall dust, and flashbang smoke filled the grand foyer in blinding, disorienting flashes.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation! Nobody move! Hands where we can see them!"
Twenty heavily armed tactical special agents in black combat gear and body armor swarmed through the shattered entryway, assault rifles raised, laser sights painting bright red dots across Frank, Brian, and Rossi’s chests.
Brian shrieked, dropping his scotch tumbler, the crystal shattering across the hardwood as he threw his hands into the air. "Don't shoot! I'm an engineer! I'm a civilian!"
Rossi lunged for the side holster beneath his suit jacket, but before his fingers could touch the grip, two tactical operators tackled him with concussive force, slamming the Chicago kingpin face-down onto the floor.
Frank backed against the fireplace, his face pale as ash, clutching his chest. "What is the meaning of this?! I am the Director of Public Works! Call the governor!"
Heavy, deliberate footsteps clicked down the grand staircase.
I walked down into the smoke, dressed in my tailored navy pantsuit, holding my forensic ledger binder and my corporate badge.
Frank froze, staring at me as if I were a ghost risen from the grave.
"H-Hannah...?" Frank stammered, sweat pouring down his temples. "You're... you were sedated! You were unconscious!"
"I was never unconscious, Frank," I replied, my voice slicing through the smoke like a diamond blade. "And I haven't swallowed a single drop of your poisoned soup in three months."
Brian looked at me from his knees, tears of pathetic, desperate panic streaming down his cheeks.
"Hannah... baby, please!" Brian pleaded. "They forced me! My dad threatened to ruin my engineering career! I love you! Tell them to let me go!"
I stopped two feet from my husband, looking down at the man who had traded my freedom, my safety, and my life for municipal kickbacks.
"You took staged photos of me in my sleep, Brian," I said with absolute, freezing contempt. "You helped poison my meals. You signed the warrants for my destruction. You are not a husband. You are a criminal conspirator."
Special Agent Vance stepped forward, slapping heavy steel handcuffs around Brian’s wrists with a resounding, metallic snap.
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"Brian Mercer, Frank Mercer, Victor Rossi, and Roger Hayes," Agent Vance announced with booming authority. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, attempted murder by administration of a controlled substance, grand racketeering, and civil rights conspiracy."
As the four men were hauled out into the flashing red and blue lights under the eyes of stunned neighbors, the nightmare was finally, irreversibly broken.
