Chapter 7 - THE SIEGE OF MAIN STREET
Z
By 4:00 AM, the hospital floor was crawling with federal agents, state troopers, and forensic investigators. Mason Vance's desperate attempt to take my mother hostage had backfired catastrophically—it gave the FBI the violent felony nexus they needed to bypass the local corrupt authorities entirely.
Sheriff Marcus Miller had been arrested at his home an hour earlier, caught attempting to board a private plane to the Bahamas with two suitcases filled with unregistered cash.
But Mason Vance was missing.
"He's not at his house, and he's not at his corporate office," Aaron reported over the encrypted tactical headset I was wearing as I stood in the parking lot outside the hospital. "Our tracking data shows his personal vehicle headed toward downtown thirty minutes ago."
"The diner," I said, realization hitting me instantly. "He's going to burn it down."
"Nicole, wait for the tactical team," Aaron warned. "The FBI has an HRT squad twenty minutes out."
"Twenty minutes is too long," I said, jumping into my sedan and throwing the car into reverse. "He wants to destroy the evidence, and he wants to burn the one thing my family built."
I tore through the empty streets of the town, the engine roaring in the cold morning air. Main Street was completely deserted, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlights reflecting off the damp pavement.
As I pulled up to Turner’s Family Diner, I saw the black SUV parked on the sidewalk out front.
Smoke was already billowing from the cracked windows of the restaurant.
I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the trunk of my sedan, drew my weapon, and charged into the burning building.
The air inside was thick with toxic black smoke. Flames were licking up the wooden walls near the kitchen, spreading rapidly toward the red vinyl booths.
Through the haze of smoke and fire, I saw him.
Mason Vance stood in the center of the dining room, a red gas can in his hand, a crazed, terrifying look in his eyes. His tuxedo jacket was gone, his shirt was unbuttoned, and his hands were covered in soot.
"It's all going to burn!" he screamed, his voice unhinged as he tossed the gas can onto the counter. "Every bit of it! You think you can destroy my life, Colonel? I'll burn this town to the ground before I let you have it!"
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"Drop the lighter, Mason!" I yelled, stepping through the smoke, my weapon trained on his chest. "It's over! The FBI has Miller! They have your bank accounts! It's finished!"
"It's not finished until I say it is!" he shrieked. He pulled a heavy revolver from his waistband and aimed it directly at my head.
