Chapter 7 - THE TWISTED RECKONING
"JASON, NO!" I screamed.
Time seemed to move in slow motion.
I lunged forward, throwing my body across the cold concrete floor, reaching out with everything I had. My fingers brushed the hot casing of the flare an inch before it struck the chemical pool.
I scooped it up and tossed it into a sink filled with standing water. It extinguished with a loud, angry HISS.
At that exact second, the double doors of the room blew open with a deafening bang.
"POLICE! DON'T MOVE!"
SWAT officers flooded the room, their weapon-mounted flashlights cutting through the steam. Red laser dots danced across Jason’s chest and Clara’s face.
Jason didn't resist. He dropped the detonator, fell to his knees, and put his hands on his head, staring hollowly at the floor as officers tackled him and pinned him to the ground.
"Get her off me! GET HER OFF ME!" Clara shrieked as officers unchained her from the table and snapped heavy steel handcuffs onto her wrists.
Detective Bennett rushed into the room, coming straight to my side and helping me up off the cold floor. "Are you alright, Evelyn?"
"I'm fine," I breathed, watching as they hauled Clara toward the exit.
As Clara passed me, she leaned close, her teeth bared like a cornered animal. "You think you won, Evie? You think this is over? The syndicate still has the paperwork! The offshore transfer was finalized at midnight! You don't have a dime left!"
She was dragged away, her bitter laughter echoing down the hallway until the heavy doors swung shut.
Three hours later, I sat in the interrogation viewing room at the police station. On the other side of the one-way glass, Jason sat in handcuffs, staring blankly at his reflection.
Bennett walked in holding two cups of black coffee, handing one to me.
"The trace on the Geneva account was completed," Bennett said, taking a sip. "Clara was right about one thing—the two million dollars was successfully transferred out of your health trust at 11:59 PM last night."
I took a slow sip of the bitter coffee. "And where did it go?"
Bennett looked at me with an unreadable expression. "It didn't go to the Russian syndicate. And it didn't go to Clara."
I turned my head slowly to look at her. "What do you mean?"
"The transfer was authorized using a secondary security key that was created seven days ago," Bennett explained, leaning against the wall. "A security key that required biometric authentication—a fingerprint match that could only belong to one person."
She pulled out a tablet and pushed it toward me.
On the screen was the bank statement showing the final destination of the two million dollars.
It hadn't been transferred to Switzerland.
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It had been transferred directly into a brand-new, private account held in my name at a bank in the Cayman Islands.
"You knew, didn't you, Evelyn?" Bennett asked quietly, her eyes locking onto mine. "You knew about Clara and Jason long before he locked you in that house."
