Chapter 44 - The Man Behind the Money
A heavy steel bumper rammed into the cruiser from the swirling blizzard behind them.
The impact whipped Arthur’s neck backward against the headrest with bone-jarring force.
Through the blown-out rear window, high-beam headlights flared blinding white in the rearview mirror.
It was not a police vehicle.
It was an armored, heavy-duty black pickup truck with reinforced brush guards and tinted glass.
"Hold on!" Vance yelled, wrestling with the steering wheel as the cruiser fish-tailed violently over the frozen gravel.
The black truck surged forward again, deliberately pitting the cruiser's rear quarter panel.
The sedan spun ninety degrees, slamming sideways into a snowbank at the edge of a seventy-foot ravine.
The cruiser’s engine choked and died in a hiss of steam from the punctured radiator.
Silence fell over the cabin, broken only by the wind howling through the shattered glass.
Behind them, the heavy truck idled smoothly, its massive tires crunching into the crust of the snow.
The driver’s side door swung open into the blizzard.
A man stepped out, wearing a tailored cashmere overcoat beneath a yellow storm poncho.
In his gloved hand, he carried a scoped hunting rifle.
Arthur squinted through the frost-rimmed glass, his blood running colder than the lake water.
The man stepped into the headlight glare, revealing a silver-haired face Arthur knew intimately.
It was Charles Davenport, the family trustee who had managed Eleanor’s secret offshore accounts for twenty years.
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"He was never Arthur's lawyer," Vance breathed, his hand drifting toward his empty holster. "He was her partner."
Charles raised the rifle, aiming straight through the windshield at Arthur’s face.
