Two days before the formal grand jury indictment was scheduled to be read in open court, an unexpected incident rattled our security detail.
At four o'clock in the morning, the perimeter cameras along our eastern hedge line detected movement.
A dark sedan with blackened windows slowed to a crawl outside our main gate, idling for over ten minutes before speeding away into the mist.
An hour later, my mobile phone chimed with an encrypted email sent to my private inbox.
The sender was anonymous, but the text was sharp and menacing:
*“Tell your detective friend to drop the charges against Evelyn Reed. If she is indicted on Tuesday, the copies of your late wife’s medical records will be leaked to every corporate competitor in the Midwest.”*
I stared at the glowing screen in disbelief.
Evelyn was still attempting to blackmail me from inside the Cook County Women’s Detention Center.
She had stashed away private medical files from Claire’s final hospital stay, hoping to fabricate a public scandal claiming my company had used corporate funds to cover private medical expenses.
I forwarded the message directly to Detective Miller and Arthur Pendelton.
By eight in the morning, Miller was waiting for me outside the detention facility’s visitor center.
“She’s using a corrupt paralegal to smuggle messages out,” Miller said, his face dark with fury. “We’ve already flagged the IP address to a legal courier service on LaSalle Street.”
“Let’s end this today,” I said, stepping through the security scanners.
We were led into an interrogation room divided by reinforced glass.
Evelyn was brought in wearing an orange jumpsuit, her wrists shackled to a chain around her waist.
Her hair was greasy, the designer poise she had cultivated for years stripped away completely.
She smiled smugly as she picked up the intercom phone on her side of the glass.
“Did you get my note, Adrian?” she sneered through the receiver. “Are you ready to instruct the prosecutor to drop my corporate fraud charges?”
I picked up the heavy plastic receiver on my side.
“Your paralegal was arrested thirty minutes ago in the courthouse parking lot, Evelyn,” I said in a calm, flat voice.
Her smug smile froze instantly.
“His car trunk was filled with your backup hard drives and the stolen medical folders,” I continued, watching the color drain from her skin. “The state prosecutor just added felony witness intimidation and federal extortion to your indictment sheet.”
Evelyn dropped the receiver onto the metal counter with a dull, hollow thud.
She stared through the glass, her mouth slightly open, as two female correctional officers stepped forward and pulled her roughly from the booth.
Her final gambit had collapsed.
