Chapter 8 - The Front Yard Ambush
When Jonah’s truck swung around the corner of his tree-lined street in Cherry Creek, the scene looked like an eviction raid.
A twenty-foot commercial moving truck was backed halfway into Jonah’s circular driveway. Two burly men in coveralls were carrying a mahogany credenza down the front steps.
Standing on the lawn, wrapped in an oversized shearling jacket and screaming into her phone, was Bianca Hale.
Parked directly behind the moving truck was Marcus's black Porsche Cayenne.
"He's here," I said, pointing at the Porsche.
Jonah didn't hit the brakes; he accelerated, swinging his heavy truck across the mouth of the driveway, boxing the moving van and Marcus's Porsche completely in. The tires kicked up gravel as we screeched to a halt.
Jonah killed the engine, opened the door, and stepped out before the dust had even settled.
"Put the furniture back in the house," Jonah told the two movers. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the cold air like a whip.
The two men stopped on the walkway, glancing nervously at Bianca.
"Don't listen to him!" Bianca shrieked, running across the lawn. "I hired you! I own this house! Keep loading!"
The driver's door of the Porsche opened, and Marcus stepped out.
He looked unraveled. His designer stubble had turned into a greasy, two-day beard. His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and frantic. When he saw me step out of Jonah’s truck, he lunged forward.
"Nina! Tell this bastard to move his truck!" Marcus yelled, his fists clenched at his sides. "We need our property!"
"*Our* property?" Jonah asked, taking three long strides across the lawn until he was standing directly between Marcus and the moving truck. "You are trespassing on private property, Marcus. The restraining order Nina filed this morning is active as of twelve noon."
Marcus pulled a crumpled paper from his coat pocket and waved it in the air. "I don't give a damn about your restraining order! Nina took everything out of our joint savings! She locked me out of the Wash Park house! I have clothing, jewelry, and private corporate files in that house!"
"Those files are currently in the custody of the state forensic audit team, Marcus," I said, staying just behind Jonah’s shoulder. "And the joint savings were transferred to an escrow holding account under Clara Sterling’s supervision. You'll get your clothes when the court approves a third-party mediator to deliver them in trash bags."
Bianca rushed up to Jonah, grabbing his wool coat with both hands. "Jonah! Where is Chloe? Where did you hide my daughter? The nanny won't answer her phone!"
Jonah looked down at Bianca’s hands on his coat until she shrank back and let go.
"Chloe is in a secure location where she won't have to watch her mother being led away in handcuffs," Jonah said coldly.
"Handcuffs?" Bianca shrieked, her voice reaching a hysterical pitch. "For what? Marcus told me the wire transfers were legal! He said it was corporate consulting!"
Marcus turned on her viciously. "Shut up, Bianca! Keep your damn mouth shut!"
"Don't you yell at me!" Bianca screamed back, rounding on Marcus. "You promised me this would be clean! You told me Nina was a mouse who would sign whatever we put in front of her! You told me Vance would never check the sub-accounts!"
"You took forty thousand dollars last month for a Cartier necklace, you greedy idiot!" Marcus roared, stepping into Bianca’s face. "You bought designer bags while the payroll accounts were bouncing!"
Jonah crossed his arms and looked at me. "Fascinating corporate consulting work."
"Indeed," I said. "High-level strategy."
Two Denver Police cruisers pulled onto the curb behind Jonah’s truck, their red and blue lights flashing against the snow-covered pines. Four officers stepped out, their hands resting on their utility belts.
"Everyone keep their hands where we can see them," the lead officer commanded. "We received a call regarding an active burglary and breach of a protective order."
Marcus turned pale. He tried to take a step toward his Porsche, but the second officer moved smoothly to cut him off.
"Mr. Marcus Porter?" the officer asked.
"Yes, but this is a domestic misunderstanding, Officer," Marcus began, his voice shifting instantly into that smooth, practiced tone he used on wealthy clients. "My wife and her... associate are harassing us—"
"Mr. Porter, turn around and place your hands behind your back," the officer said flatly, pulling a pair of steel cuffs from his belt.
Marcus recoiled. "What? On what grounds? This is civil court! You can't arrest me for a divorce dispute!"
"You're not being arrested for a divorce dispute, Mr. Porter," the officer replied, grabbing Marcus's wrist and twisting it smoothly behind his back. The steel clicked shut. "We have an active warrant issued an hour ago by the Denver District Attorney’s Office. First-degree grand larceny, wire fraud, and violating an emergency protective order."
Marcus thrashed against the officer's grip, his head whipping around toward me. "Nina! Nina, call Evelyn! Call my mother! You can't let them do this to me! Think about what this will do to my name! Think about our life together!"
I watched as the officers pushed Marcus against the hood of his own Porsche, patting him down while neighbors began stepping out onto their porches with phones raised.
"Our life together ended the moment you let my father die alone, Marcus," I said, my voice steady and cold. "Have a safe trip to downtown."
Bianca sank onto the snow-covered lawn, sobbing into her hands as Marcus was bundled into the back of the cruiser.
Jonah walked over to the moving men, who were standing frozen on the porch steps.
"Unload the truck," Jonah told them. "Every single piece. Put it back where you found it."
May you like
The driver nodded rapidly. "Right away, sir. We didn't know, man. We swear we didn't know."
***
