Chapter 3 - THE FEDERAL RAIDBefore Margaret could scramble toward the heavy oak exit doors, the front entrance burst open with a deafening crash.
Half a dozen federal marshals in matte-black tactical gear swarmed into the chapel, their automatic rifles pointed toward the ceiling. Lead Inspector Vance (no relation to the hitman) marched straight down the central aisle, his gold badge flashing under the church lights.
"Margaret Cole!" Inspector Vance roared, his voice cutting through the hysterical screams of the guests. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, orchestration of vehicular manslaughter, and financial fraud!"
"You can't touch me!" Margaret screamed, backing away until her spine hit the altar railing. "My family built this city! We own judges! We own banks!"
"You don't own federal jurisdiction, Mrs. Cole," Vance replied coldly, signaling two officers forward.
The steel handcuffs snapped around Margaret's wrists with a harsh, metallic click that echoed off the ancient walls. As they dragged her kicking and screaming down the aisle, her expensive black mourning hat fell off, rolling across the floor like a tumbleweed.
Vanessa tried to slip unnoticed behind a pillar, heading for the side vestry exit.
"Stop right there, Miss Hart," I called out, my voice stopping her dead in her tracks.
Two marshals stepped in front of the vestry door, blocking her path.
May you like
"You're coming with us too," Inspector Vance noted, pulling a second set of cuffs from his belt. "Accessory to murder, possession of stolen assets, and corporate embezzlement via Ethan Cole's dummy accounts."
Vanessa collapsed onto her knees, sobbing shamelessly into her designer handbag as the cold metal locked around her wrists.
