Chapter 5 - Checkmate
“Clayton Whitfield,” Vega said, reciting the words that sounded like pure music to my ears. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, felony elder abuse, wire fraud, and domestic battery. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Clayton looked trapped, a cornered rat realizing the cage had been locked from the outside the entire time. He looked at me, his eyes pleading, the mask of the arrogant abuser entirely stripped away to reveal the coward beneath.
“Nora, please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “I love you. We can fix this. You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m an auditor, Clayton,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “I don’t fix things. I balance the books. And your account is heavily overdrawn.”
He lunged. It wasn't a calculated move, just a blind burst of panic. But Vega was faster. She grabbed his arm, twisted it sharply behind his back, and slammed him face-first onto the dining table. The forged deed crumpled beneath his cheek. The handcuffs ratcheted shut with a brutal, satisfying click.
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“Oh, and one more thing,” I said, leaning down so I was right next to his ear as he panted against the mahogany. “I sent Serena Bell a little gift this morning, too. I anonymously forwarded her offshore tax evasion records to the IRS. They’re raiding her boutique as we speak. Turns out, she wasn't just your mistress; she was your accomplice. You’re both going to federal prison.”
Clayton let out a guttural sound of pure despair as the deputies hauled him to his feet. They marched him out the heavy kitchen door, across the sweeping wrap-around porch, and shoved him into the back of a waiting squad car.
