Chapter 9 - The Floodgates Open
My cell phone buzzed. A single text message from my father.
The FBI is at the front doors. It is finished.
I looked up at the tactical commander. "Open the gates."
"Copy that, Ms. Cross."
The commander tapped a sequence into his tablet.
Deep beneath us, the mechanical locks disengaged. KA-CHUNK.
The heavy titanium blast doors that had sealed the grand foyer began to slowly grind upward. The screech of metal on metal echoed through the silent conservatory.
Bright, flashing red and blue lights spilled into the room, cutting through the warm amber glow of the gala.
Dozens of federal agents poured into the building. They bypassed the local police entirely, moving with swift, clinical precision. They were armed, organized, and carrying a stack of federal arrest warrants thicker than a phone book.
The lead FBI agent, a stern woman in a dark suit, walked directly toward me.
"Serena Cross?" she asked.
"Yes, Agent," I replied.
"Are these the suspects?" she asked, gesturing to Preston, who was still cowering near the fountain, and Richard, who was bleeding on the floor.
"They are," I confirmed. "Along with the diamonds they were smuggling in the painting behind them."
The agent waved her hand. "Cuff them."
The federal agents hauled Richard Croft to his feet, snapping heavy iron cuffs around his wrists. He didn't fight them. He just stared at me, his eyes dead, his spirit completely broken.
Preston was crying as they cuffed him. "I didn't know about the diamonds! I just hit her! That's all I did! Tell them!" he begged, looking toward his former friends.
Not a single person looked back at him. They all stared at the floor.
As the Crofts were marched out of the building, toward the waiting convoy of federal transport vans, the agent turned to the rest of the crowd.
"Nobody leaves," the agent barked. "We have witness statements to verify, and every single one of your financial records is currently being subpoenaed. Form a line against the wall."
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The most powerful people on the West Coast, the untouchables, the elites, meekly shuffled to the wall, lining up like scolded children.
I stood in the center of the room, the chaos swirling around me, completely untouched.
