Chapter 5 - The Trap
Evelyn stared at the high-definition image on the screen. The brooch was an intricate platinum peacock set with three hundred pave diamonds and a rare cushion-cut blue sapphire in the center.
“That’s the Vance family heirloom,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping low. “Eleanor wore it at our wedding.”
“Eleanor used to wear it,” Marcus corrected, tapping the sapphire. “My mother sold the original heirloom through an offshore broker in Geneva two years ago to cover Julian’s gambling debts in Macau. What Julian had in his pocket tonight was a synthetic zirconia replica commissioned from a jeweler in Chinatown.”
Evelyn’s mind raced through the implications. “If the police examine the replica, they can trace it back to the manufacturer.”
“Julian thought you’d panic and ditch it, or that his paid security would ‘find’ it in Lily’s coat pocket and hand it directly to his pocketed cops without forensics,” Marcus explained. “Julian already reported a five-million-dollar insurance claim on the original brooch thirty minutes ago.”
“Insurance fraud,” Evelyn said, a slow, cold realization settling over her.
“Grand larceny, fraud, and framing a minor,” Marcus nodded. “Enough to bury him under federal indictments for the next twenty years.”
Suddenly, the security panel near the front door emitted a sharp, double chime.
Marcus instantly drew a matte-black sidearm from his waistband, his demeanor shifting from calculating strategist to lethal operator in a fraction of a second. He flicked the safety off with his thumb.
“Get Lily into the panic room behind the pantry,” Marcus commanded in a low whisper.
Evelyn didn’t waste a breath. She scooped Lily up and hurried toward the disguised wall panel, typing the four-digit code Marcus pointed to.
Through the CCTV monitor mounted above the kitchen island, Evelyn saw three figures in dark tactical gear standing directly outside the private elevator doors.
They weren’t wearing police uniforms. They were carrying suppressed submachine guns, and their faces were covered in black balaclavas.
“Marcus,” Evelyn breathed, looking back at him. “Those aren't cops.”
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“Julian’s clean-up crew,” Marcus replied, racking the slide of his weapon. “He’s not waiting for the police to find you. He wants you silenced before the sun comes up.”
The heavy steel entrance door gave a sickening creak as a hydraulic breaching ram struck the lock.
