Chapter 5 - The Frame JobThe world seemed to spin on its axis.
“Mom, we have to move. Now!” I grabbed my mother’s arm, pulling her toward the stairwell away from the main entrance of the courthouse.
“Clara, what’s happening?” she cried, her voice trembling with panic. “What does it mean? Ten million dollars?”
“Jonathan set us up,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs as we sprinted down the heavy concrete stairs. “He used his access to the banking network to throw money into your account. He’s using the federal government as his personal hit squad.”
Chloe was running right behind us, her high heels clattering against the concrete steps. “Where are we going? They’ll have the exits blocked!”
“Not the side exit,” I said. “The old basement loading dock behind the records room. Paramedics and maintenance crews use it.”
As we reached the ground floor, the loud, echoing wail of police sirens began to fill the street outside. Red and blue lights flashed through the high frosted glass windows of the lobby.
Over the building's public intercom system, a stern voice broadcasted: “Attention court security, lock down all exits. Suspect Eleanor Vance is believed to be in the building. Detain on sight.”
My mother stopped in her tracks, her face ghost-white. “They’re looking for me... Clara, I didn't do anything! I don't even know how to transfer money online!”
“I know, Mom. I know,” I said, holding her face in my hands. “Look at me. I am your lawyer, and I am your daughter. I will not let them lock you up. But we cannot let them arrest you today. If you go into federal holding under a terrorism charge, they will deny you bail, isolate you, and Jonathan will make sure you never walk out alive.”
I turned to Chloe. “Do you still have your car parked in the rear lot?”
Chloe nodded rapidly, pulling a key fob out of her purse. “A black Audi. Parked right by the dumpster.”
“Give me the keys,” I said.
Chloe hesitated for a second, then slapped the keys into my palm. “Take it. Just don't let Jonathan find me. Please!”
“Get out of here through the public lobby,” I told Chloe. “Act confused. Tell them you’re just Arthur’s girlfriend and you know nothing. They have no reason to hold you.”
Chloe didn't wait to be told twice. She turned and hurried back toward the main hallway.
I pulled my mother down the dark, fluorescent-lit corridor that led to the maintenance basement. The smell of dust, bleach, and old cardboard filled the air. My mind was spinning at a hundred miles an hour.
Jonathan thought he had executed the perfect trap. He thought by turning my mother into a suspected criminal, he would force me to back off and focus on defending her against fake federal charges, abandoning the financial asset recovery.
He didn't realize who taught me how to fight.
We burst through the heavy crash-bar doors of the loading dock into the freezing alleyway behind the courthouse. The cold air hit my face like an electric shock.
The black Audi was parked fifty feet away. I pressed the key fob, and the lights flashed.
“Get in!” I yelled, pushing my mother into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel and slamming the engine start button. The V6 engine roared to life.
Just as I threw the car into reverse, two heavy black SUVs swung around the corner of the alley, blocking the main street exit. Federal agents stepped out, weapons drawn.
“Eleanor Vance! Step out of the vehicle with your hands up!” a voice bellowed through a megaphone.
My mother screamed.
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I looked in the rearview mirror. The narrow alley led to a narrow service lane behind a row of brick warehouses. It was risky, dangerous, and completely insane.
I stomped on the accelerator. The tires screeched against the asphalt, smoke pouring from the wheel wells as the car launched backward down the narrow alley.
