Chapter 37 - The Sheriff’s Warrant
Sheriff Marcus stepped out of the shadows of the corridor, his hand resting casually on the butt of his sidearm. Behind him stood two uniformed deputies, their faces impassive and stern.
Richard went dead pale, staggering back until his spine met the mahogany bookcase. "Marcus... what are you doing here? Tyler posted bail fair and square."
"Your bail covers the initial municipal charges of unlawful assembly and property damage from the gala, Richard," Sheriff Marcus said, stepping between Tyler and me. "It does not cover what Mr. Pendelton brought to the District Attorney's desk an hour ago."
Tyler’s sneer vanished instantly, replaced by a frantic, darting panic. "What? What are you talking about? I didn't do anything else!"
"You didn't just throw an unauthorized party, son," Marcus continued, unhooking a fresh pair of steel handcuffs from his utility belt. "We opened the iron box your men took from the crypt. Inside was a ledger containing the forged signatures of three county commissioners, dated last week, attempting to transfer the water and timber rights of the Vance estate to an offshore shell company registered in your name."
"That wasn't me! That was Miller's idea!" Tyler shrieked, pointing wildly into the empty room. "Miller told me the old lady would never notice if we slipped the title transfer into the lease agreements!"
"Miller gave you up twenty minutes after we sat him down in interrogation," Marcus replied dryly. "He provided audio recordings of you instructing him to doctor the documents and blackmail your father into financing the legal fees."
Richard slumped into a chair, burying his face in his hands, letting out a pathetic, broken moan. "Tyler... what did you do...?"
"You told me to take what was ours!" Tyler screamed at his father, his voice cracking in hysteria. "You spent twenty years telling me the Vances stole everything from us! You told me she was an old fool who didn't deserve a penny! Now you're acting like I'm the criminal?!"
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"You are a criminal, Tyler," Marcus said, grabbing Tyler by the arm, spinning him around, and forcing his wrists behind his back. The sharp, mechanical *click* of the steel handcuffs locking shut sounded like the closing of a cell door. "Tyler Vance—or Mercer, whichever name you want to use in front of the magistrate—you are under arrest for grand forgery, extortion, and interstate financial fraud. No bail this time."
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