Chapter 5 - The Confrontation at the Station
The Kendall County Sheriff’s Department was bustling with emergency personnel, national guard troops, and displaced residents when we arrived at 1:15 PM.
Sheriff Tom Buford—a broad-shouldered man with a thick grey mustache who had known my father for twenty years—was standing behind the front desk, sipping black coffee and reviewing search-and-rescue maps.
When Arthur Vance walked up to the counter, flanked by Frank and me, Sheriff Buford glanced up, his eyes widening in absolute shock as he spotted me standing behind the attorney.
"Katie?!" Buford gasped, dropping his coffee cup onto the desk, splashing hot liquid over his paperwork. "Lord in heaven... Katie! Your father reported you missing three hours ago! He said your car was swept away at the lower bridge!"
"My car was pushed into the lower bridge by my father forty-five minutes ago, Sheriff," I said, my voice steady, ringing through the busy lobby.
The room went dead silent. Two deputies paused near the dispatch desk, turning around slowly.
Sheriff Buford frowned, his brows drawing together. "Katie... what are you talking about? Your dad was just in here crying his eyes out, begging us to send a dive team down to the basin."
Arthur Vance stepped forward, opening his leather briefcase and slapping a stack of eight-by-ten glossy photographs onto the high wooden counter.
"Sheriff Buford," Arthur said, his voice echoing authoritatively. "My name is Arthur Vance, senior counsel for the Evelyn Miller Estate. I suggest you take a very close look at these images before you send a dive team anywhere."
Buford slowly reached for the photographs.
The first image showed Dale Miller attaching the tow chain to the green sedan in the dry barn. The second showed him dragging it with a tractor. The third showed him shattering the driver's side window with a crowbar. And the fourth showed him shoving the vehicle into the swollen creek.
Buford’s face went from pale white to deep, stormy red. His jaw worked silently for several seconds as he stared at the crystal-clear photos.
"What is the meaning of this?" Buford growled, looking up at Arthur.
"The meaning, Sheriff, is that Dale and Denise Miller deliberately abandoned their twenty-four-year-old daughter in a life-threatening flash flood at 3:45 this morning to trigger a reversion clause in a three-million-dollar trust fund," Arthur stated bluntly. "When she survived, they staged a fatal accident scene to collect on a fraudulent two-million-dollar life insurance policy."
Arthur pulled out his tablet and hit play on a video recording. My father's frantic voicemail played aloud for the entire station to hear: “Katie? Please tell me you didn’t get in that car!”
"He left that message at 5:50 AM," I told the Sheriff. "An hour after he read my text message confirming I was safe on the church steps. He knew I wasn't in that car. He put that car in the river to make sure you found a wreck."
Sheriff Buford slammed his fist onto the counter, making everyone in the room flinch.
"Deputy Miller! Deputy Vance!" Buford barked at his officers. "Get the county prosecutor on the line right now. Tell him I need an emergency arrest warrant for Dale and Denise Miller for conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice, and filing a false police report."
Buford looked back at me, his eyes filled with profound sympathy and fury. "Katie... where are you staying?"
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"She's with me," Arthur Vance answered. "And Sheriff? I suggest you execute those warrants immediately. Because in two hours, Dale Miller has an appointment at my office in San Antonio to sign the preliminary probate paperwork."
Arthur turned to me with a cold, sharp smile. "And we are going to let him think he’s signing his way to millions."
