Chapter 27 - The Altar of Deceit
Evelyn froze. For the first time in her life, the porcelain mask of pious perfection shattered into raw, naked terror.
"You're lying!" she screamed, her voice hitting a shrill, hysterical pitch that caused the church audio monitors to screech with feedback. "Robert is dead! He drowned in Mexico! You're insane! You're desecrating your father’s memory to save yourself from prison!"
"Is that so?" Marcus said, plugging the satellite transmitter into the broadcast feed of the lead news van.
With a few keystrokes, he overrode the regional broadcast feed, beaming the contents of Helen’s encrypted flash drive directly onto the two massive, fifty-foot LED screens mounted on the church’s exterior walls—screens normally used to display hymn lyrics and fundraising goals.
The church congregation gasped in collective, horrified shock.
The massive screens flickered, revealing high-resolution color photographs taken twenty-four hours earlier by the security cameras at the municipal marina: Robert Vance, very much alive, boarding a private skiff with a heavy duffel bag.
Then came the banking records—hundreds of wire transfers showing the First Covenant Fellowship’s tax-exempt charity fund systematically draining over four million dollars into an offshore entity titled *“BV Maritime Holdings LLC,”* registered to Robert and Evelyn Vance.
And finally, the audio recording from the hospital room played through the church's multi-thousand-dollar exterior speaker system:
*“...It was Robert...”* Kenneth’s cracked, dying whisper echoed across the asphalt, amplified so loudly it shook the stained-glass windows. *“He hit me with the iron bar... Evelyn told him to get the master ledger from the joists... They were going to kill Riley and burn the house down for the lithium water rights... God forgive me... God forgive me...”*
The parking lot erupted into absolute pandemonium.
Church elders dropped their signs in disgust. Donors who had given their life savings to Evelyn’s building funds began screaming profanities at the portico. Reporters swarmed forward like piranhas, thrusting their microphones directly into Evelyn’s trembling face.
"Mrs. Vance! Did you knowingly commit insurance fraud?"
"Sheriff Miller, are you a signatory on the BV Maritime accounts?"
"Sheriff, why is your signature on the fraudulent offshore manifests?"
Miller didn't answer. He backed slowly away from the podium, his hand trembling against his utility belt. He looked around wildly, realizing that the mob of pious sheep he had counted on for cover had instantly transformed into a howling pack of wolves demanding his blood.
"Miller!" Evelyn shrieked, grabbing his sleeve with claw-like fingers, digging her acrylic nails into his uniform. "Do something! Arrest them! Call the SWAT unit! We have an agreement!"
Miller shoved her away with savage brutality, sending her sprawling across the stone steps. "Get away from me, you crazy bitch! I don't know what you're talking about!"
Miller turned and sprinted toward his unmarked command SUV parked near the rear exit.
"Federal agents are already at your house, Miller!" Marcus shouted after him through the bullhorn. "There’s nowhere on this continent you can drive that we won't find you!"
Miller didn't care. He jumped into the SUV, slammed the door, and tore out of the lot, his tires smoking against the asphalt, fleeing toward the interstate like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Evelyn lay on the cold stone steps, her cashmere coat torn, her designer purse spilled open across the pavement, revealing three different passports and twenty thousand dollars in bundled hundred-dollar bills.
The very congregation that had worshiped the ground she walked on thirty minutes ago now looked down at her with cold, unvarnished hatred.
I walked up the stone steps, stopping directly above her.
Evelyn looked up at me from the ground. Her makeup was ruined, black streaks running down her cheeks, her lips pulled back in a snarling grimace of purely demonic hatred.
May you like
"You think you won, Riley?" she hissed, spitting venom onto the stone. "You think you're clever? Robert didn't leave the county. He knows where you put the master ledger. He knows where Helen’s boat is. He’s at the lake house right now, Riley! He’s setting the torch to it! Everything your grandmother loved, every memory, every brick—it's turning to ash while you play hero for the cameras!"
My heart plummeted into my stomach.
