Chapter 5 - THE AMBUSH ON ELMWOOD AVENUEI jumped out of the truck before Dad had even brought it to a complete stop. "Derek, stop this! You forged my signature! You stole my entire life!"
Derek snorted with laughter, waving a piece of paper in the air. "Good luck proving that in court six months from now! Right now, I have a legally binding writ of possession. The sheriff will be here in ten minutes to enforce the perimeter. Whatever is in this house belongs to the liquidation company—which, by the way, is registered under my name."
My father stepped down from the truck, his tall frame looming over the driveway. He didn't yell. He didn't raise his fists. He walked calmly toward the moving crew carrying my living room sofa down the porch steps.
"Hold on, fellas," Dad said to the movers in a firm, authoritative tone. "Put that down."
"Don't listen to him!" Derek shouted at the workers. "I’m paying you! Keep loading!"
The movers stopped, looking uncomfortably between my father and Derek.
"Son," Dad said to the lead mover, pulling out his wallet and displaying a silver shield badge from his retired federal service days. "This property is currently under active federal investigation for wire fraud and forgery involving Dr. Victor Vance and the DEA. If you move one more piece of property out of this house, you become accessories to the movement of stolen federal evidence."
The two movers immediately dropped the edge of the sofa onto the wet grass.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" Derek screamed, stepping aggressively toward my father. "You can't do that! I have paper rights!"
"You have forged papers, Derek," Denise Harper stated as she stepped out of the vehicle, holding her briefcase high. "And I just spoke directly to Judge Miller at the Franklin County Common Pleas Court. An emergency stay of execution has been issued based on the arrest of your notary, Samantha Vance, thirty minutes ago."
Derek’s face went dead white. The smug arrogance that had coated his expression for months instantly shattered into raw terror. "Samantha... was arrested?"
"She’s currently sitting in an interrogation room at federal headquarters," Dad said calmly. "And she’s already singing like a canary to save her own skin. She told them everything about the kickback schemes, the forged deeds, and the private account you opened in the Cayman Islands."
Derek backed away slowly toward his new sports car. "You're lying. You're trying to bluff me."
"Then why don't you ask the officers who just pulled up behind you?" I said, pointing down the street.
A marked police cruiser pulled up along the curb, its blue lights flashing through the rain. Two uniformed officers stepped out.
Derek’s eyes darted frantically around the yard. He realized the walls were closing in fast. He reached into his pocket, whipped out his car key fob, and lunged toward the driver’s door of the luxury sports car.
"I’m not going down for this!" he yelled, opening the door. "None of you can touch this money!"
He slammed the door, keyed the ignition, and slammed the sports car into reverse, spinning his tires across my front lawn, spraying mud across the driveway.
He thought he was escaping.
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What he didn't realize was that my father hadn't parked his heavy four-wheel-drive truck behind him by accident.
CRASH!
