Chapter 4 - The Arrival of the Law
Every head in the room turned toward the heavy mahogany doors.
Stepping into the ballroom was Detective Thomas Vance of the State Major Crimes Division, flanked by two armed state troopers in full uniform. Behind them stood my attorney, Sarah Lin, carrying a sleek steel briefcase.
Thomas Vance was a tall, broad-shouldered man with steady gray eyes and a sharp jawline. He had been the lead detective who responded to the emergency call six weeks ago when a snowplow driver found me frozen against a snowbank on Route 84, holding my barely breathing baby inside my jacket.
Thomas walked straight down the aisle, his heavy duty boots leaving wet prints on the plush carpet. He didn't look at the flowers, the candles, or the stunned guests. His eyes remained fixed squarely on Mason.
"Mason Sterling," Detective Vance said, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his utility belt. "You are under arrest for attempted second-degree murder, child endangerment, grand larceny, and corporate fraud."
Mason gasped, taking another step backward until his back hit the altar rail. "This is insane! You don't have a warrant!"
"Actually, we have three," Sarah Lin said smoothly, stepping up beside me and handing a red-stamped folder to the detective. "Signed by Judge Harrison twenty minutes ago. The state trooper dashcam footage from the night of November 12th showed your vehicle leaving the scene near mile marker 42 at 11:14 PM, four minutes after the emergency call was logged from a passing truck driver."
Evelyn let out a high-pitched shriek. "You can't arrest him here! This is a private event! Do you know who my family is?"
"I don't care if you're the Queen of England, ma'am," Detective Vance said flatly, grabbing Mason by the wrist and twisting his arm expertly behind his back.
Snap.
The steel cuff locked around Mason’s right wrist.
"Get your hands off me!" Mason screamed, thrashing against Vance’s iron grip. "Rachel! Tell them to stop! We can talk about this! Think about Lily! She needs a father!"
I stepped forward until I was standing right in front of him. I looked into his wild, desperate eyes—the same eyes that had watched me freeze on the side of a mountain road while I begged him to save our daughter.
"Lily doesn't have a father, Mason," I said, my voice dropping into a quiet, absolute register. "She has a survivor. And today, she watches her mother take back everything you tried to steal."
Detective Vance yanked the other cuff shut around Mason’s left wrist. Snap.
As the state troopers dragged Mason down the aisle toward the exit, his mother screaming behind them, the grand ballroom broke into absolute bedlam. Photographers hired for the wedding began snapping frantic pictures of the groom in handcuffs. Guests rushed toward the doors to watch the police cruiser pull up to the valet stand.
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Claire Whitmore stood beside her father, her face pale, watching the man she had loved being shoved into the back of a police car. She looked over at me, her eyes red and swollen with tears.
I gave her a single, silent nod of empathy. She was a victim of Mason’s greed, just as I had been. But today, the cycle of his destruction was finally coming to an end.
