Chapter 4 - The Rat in the TrapWithin twenty minutes, Saint Michael Medical Center was crawling with federal agents and local police.
Detective Monroe stood by the nursing station, reviewing the digital copies of the forged will and the hundreds of hidden text messages I had downloaded from Kenneth’s office safe.
"The timeline matches up," Monroe said, looking up from her tablet with a grim expression. "Kenneth has been systematically draining Campbell Manufacturing through shell companies in the Cayman Islands for the past eighteen months. Your father discovered the discrepancy last week. That’s why the stroke was induced."
I stared at her, my blood running cold. "Induced? You think Kenneth poisoned him?"
"Blood work from two days ago showed high levels of synthetic anticoagulants in your father’s system," Monroe said flatly. "It wasn't a natural stroke, Victoria. It was an assassination attempt disguised as a medical emergency."
The realization hit me like a physical blow. For five years, I had slept next to a monster who had calculated every breath I took, every friend I spoke to, and every step I made, all while pretending to be my protector.
"Where is he now?" I asked, my voice hard as iron.
"Patrol units checked your house in Saint Paul ten minutes ago," Monroe replied, checking her watch. "He’s gone. He must have realized the game was up when Janice didn't report back. His car was tracked heading north toward the Duluth highway—probably trying to make it to the Canadian border before the international warrants go through."
I looked through the glass window of Room 314. My father was resting peacefully now, his vital signs stabilizing under the watchful eye of a trusted doctor brought in by Detective Monroe. He was safe—for now.
"He’s not running to Canada," I said quietly, remembering the layout of my family’s old hunting lodge on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Kenneth had convinced me to sign over management of the property two years ago. It was isolated, heavily fortified, and completely off the grid. "He’s going to the lake house."
Detective Monroe narrowed her eyes. "You're certain?"
"It’s the only place he has cash, passports, and satellite communication stored away from prying eyes," I said, standing up straight. I pulled my coat tight around my shoulders. "And I'm going with you."
"Victoria, absolutely not," Monroe protested. "This is a volatile fugitive operation. Kenneth is desperate, and desperate men are dangerous."
"He thinks I'm dead," I replied, my voice dropping into a dangerous, cold register. "He thinks his little plan on the highway took care of me. If you go in there alone, he'll burn the evidence and slip into the wilderness before your tactical units even secure the perimeter. Let me be the bait."
May you like
Monroe stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. The silence in the hospital corridor stretched thin, broken only by the hum of the vending machines down the hall.
Finally, the detective let out a long, heavy sigh and reached for her radio. "Alright. But you stay in the armored transport until my team clears the outer buildings. If he so much as looks at you wrong, we take him down."
