Chapter 8 - Checkmate
David froze, his eyes darting frantically around the docks as armed officers swarmed from the shadows.
“Police! Drop the folder and put your hands in the air!” a voice boomed over a megaphone.
Panic twisted David’s face into an ugly, desperate snarl.
He looked at me, realizing he had walked straight into a trap.
“You bitch,” he spat venomously.
Instead of dropping the folder, he clutched it to his chest and bolted toward the edge of the pier.
He was heading for a small motorboat tied to one of the wooden pylons.
“He’s making a run for the boat!” I screamed, pointing toward the water.
Two officers tackled him before his foot even touched the edge of the dock.
The blue folder slipped from his grasp, sliding across the wet concrete.
I lunged forward, throwing myself onto the ground to grab it before the wind could blow the loose papers into the ocean.
My fingers clamped around the damp cardboard just in time.
I sat up, clutching the evidence to my chest, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
David was pinned to the ground, screaming profanities as they clicked cold steel handcuffs tightly around his wrists.
Detective Evans jogged over, offering me a hand to pull me up from the wet pavement.
“Are you okay, Megan?” he asked gently.
I looked down at the folder, checking to ensure the financial statements were still inside and intact.
They were.
I looked over at David, who was being hauled up by his collar, completely defeated.
All of his arrogance and power had evaporated in an instant.
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“I’m perfectly fine,” I said, a genuine smile breaking across my face for the first time in days.
“In fact, I have never been better.”
