Chapter 8
Jake was in jail.
But the fight was far from over.
His father had bailed him out before the sun went down.
Two million dollars cash.
No questions asked.
And the moment he was free, his legal team went to work.
They filed motions.
They called press conferences.
They accused the police of misconduct.
Of framing an innocent man.
Of taking the word of a “confused child” over a respected businessman and father.
The court of public opinion was split.
Half the state thought Jake was a monster.
The other half thought I was.
Marcus’s recording—anonymously sent to Detective Voss—was enough to arrest him.
But it wouldn’t be enough to convict.
The audio was still questionable.
The source was unknown.
Jake’s lawyers would tear it apart.
“We need Megan,” Marcus said that night at my apartment.
We were spread out around my kitchen table.
Laptop.
Whiteboard.
Papers everywhere.
Sarah was sitting beside me, going through bank statements.
“Megan Price is the key,” Marcus continued. “She’s the one who falsified the reports. Who took the bribes. Who helped him coordinate everything. If she testifies against him? We win. If she doesn’t? Jake walks. And he comes after all of us with everything he’s got.”
Sarah looked up.
“Megan won’t testify. She’s too scared of him. And too guilty. She knows if she talks, she goes to prison too.”
“Then we give her a reason to talk. A deal. Immunity for her testimony. Detective Voss said she’d be willing to talk to the DA about it.”
“Jake will find out. And if he thinks she’s going to flip—”
“He’ll silence her,” I finished.
The room went quiet.
We all knew it was true.
Jake had already proven what he was capable of.
A seven-year-old girl.
A dog.
What would he do to a woman who could put him away for twenty years?
“Then we get to her first,” I said. “Before Jake does.”
Marcus checked his phone.
“Tracked her car to her apartment in Sylvan Park. She’s been there since five. Alone, as far as we can tell. No sign of Jake or any of his guys.”
He stood up.
“Let’s go.”
We arrived at Megan’s apartment twenty minutes later.
Small.
Quiet.
Well-kept.
A single mom’s place—there were toys scattered on the porch.
A tricycle.
A sticker chart on the front door.
Sarah knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
Louder.
“Megan? It’s Sarah Carter. We need to talk.”
Still nothing.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Megan, we know you’re in there. We can see your TV on through the window. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help. But Jake is going to be looking for you soon. And when he finds you? He’s not going to be as nice as we are.”
A long silence.
Then the deadbolt slid back.
The door opened an inch.
Megan stood in the gap.
Pale.
Disheveled.
Eyes red from crying.
Behind her, a small boy—about four—peeked around her leg.
“Go away,” she whispered. “Please. Before he sees you here.”
“Megan, he already knows you’re the weak link,” Sarah said gently. “He told you himself at the lake house this morning. If you go down, you go down alone. But if you help us? We can protect you. And your son.”
Megan’s eyes widened.
“You were at the lake house?”
“We heard everything. The bribes. the reports. the plan to discredit Ethan. We know it all. And Jake knows we know. Which means you’re no longer useful to him. You’re a liability. And Jake doesn’t keep liabilities around.”
Tears spilled over Megan’s cheeks.
She looked down at her son.
Brushed his hair back.
“I did it for him,” she said, nodding at the boy. “My ex-husband was supposed to pay child support. But he lost his job. Then he left the state. I was working three jobs. Couldn’t make rent. Couldn’t put food on the table. Jake found out. Offered me ten thousand dollars a month. All I had to do was write a few reports. Say Sarah was unstable. That Lily was better off with him.”
She looked up at Sarah.
“I’m so sorry. I knew it was wrong. But my boy was going hungry. I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice,” Sarah said softly. “But I understand. I’ve been where you are. Scared. Alone. Trying to do right by your kid when the whole world is against you.”
She stepped closer.
“Help us, Megan. Do the right thing now. Testify against Jake. Tell the DA everything. And we will make sure you and your son are taken care of. Safe. Protected. No more Jake. No more bribes. No more looking over your shoulder.”
Megan stared at her.
For a long moment, I thought she was going to say no.
Then she looked down at her son again.
And nodded.
“Okay. I’ll do it. But we have to be quick. Jake texted me an hour ago. Said he was coming over. That we needed to ‘fix this.’”
Marcus was already on his phone.
“Detective Voss? We need a protective detail at Megan Price’s address in Sylvan Park. Immediately. And get the DA on the line. We’ve got a witness ready to flip.”
Megan opened the door all the way.
“Come in. I’ll get the files. Everything I have. All the reports. the text messages. the bank deposit slips. I kept copies of everything. Just in case.”
We stepped inside.
The apartment was small but warm.
Family photos on the walls.
Mostly of her son.
None of Jake.
Megan disappeared into the bedroom.
Her son stood in the middle of the living room, staring at us.
“Are you the police?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” I said, kneeling down. “But we’re the good guys. We’re here to make sure no one hurts you or your mommy.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Okay. The bad man scares me. He yells a lot.”
Before I could answer, Marcus’s head snapped toward the window.
“Cars. Three of them. Coming fast. No lights.”
He ran to the peephole.
“Jake. And four guys I don’t recognize. They’re armed, Ethan. I can see the bulges under their jackets.”
My blood ran cold.
Sarah grabbed the little boy and pulled him behind the sofa.
“Megan!” I yelled. “Hurry!”
She came running out of the bedroom with a thick stack of papers.
“What’s happening?”
“Jake’s here. With friends. And he’s not here to talk.”
Marcus was already moving furniture.
Pushing the heavy bookshelf in front of the door.
“Call 911. Tell them we have an armed home invasion in progress. Tell them Detective Voss is already en route.”
Sarah dialed.
Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the phone twice.
Outside, we heard car doors slam.
Boots on the porch.
“Megan!” Jake’s voice. Loud. Angry. “Open the door. Now. I know they’re in there.”
No one answered.
A fist pounded on the wood.
Once.
Twice.
Then silence.
“He’s going to the back,” Marcus whispered.
Sure enough, seconds later, we heard glass shatter in the kitchen.
Marcus pulled a small handgun from his waistband.
“Stay down. All of you. Whatever happens—do not come out from behind that couch.”
He moved silently toward the kitchen.
I looked around for something to use as a weapon.
Found a heavy cast-iron skillet on the stove.
Not great.
But better than nothing.
I moved to the other side of the kitchen doorway.
Waited.
Footsteps.
Two men.
Talking in low voices.
“—said grab the files. Kill the girl if we have to. But make it look like a burglary gone wrong.”
“The others? Carter said the mom and the guy from the news might be here too.”
“Carter said do whatever it takes. No witnesses. He’ll make it worth our while. Fifty grand each.”
Fifty grand.
Our lives were worth fifty grand to Jake Carter.
The first man stepped into the kitchen.
Tall.
Masked.
Gun in hand.
Marcus moved faster than I would’ve thought possible.
He stepped out from behind the fridge.
Pistol to the back of the man’s head.
“Drop it. Now.”
The man froze.
His gun clattered to the floor.
The second man started to turn.
I swung the skillet.
Hard.
Connected with the side of his head.
He went down like a sack of potatoes.
“Nice shot,” Marcus said.
“Tie them up. There’s zip ties in the junk drawer.”
But before we could move, Jake was in the doorway.
He had Megan by the hair.
May you like
A gun pressed to her temple.
“Put the gun down, Marcus. Or I blow her brains out right now.”
