“You called the police?” he breathed, horror creeping into his voice.
“No,” I smiled, the sharpest, coldest smile of my life. “I called my father’s old department. They’ve been waiting twenty-eight years to finish this conversation.”
He lunged toward the desk—whether for a weapon or the blue folder, I didn’t care.
I didn’t need to shoot.
The front door burst open with a deafening crash.
“POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR!”
Armed officers flooded the room, throwing Lucas to the floor before he could even scream. His face was pressed hard against the dusty hardwood, his arms twisted behind his back as the handcuffs clicked into place.
I lowered the gun slowly as an officer took it gently from my hands.
Lucas turned his head, staring up at me from the floor. The charismatic, untouchable man was completely gone. In his place was just a small, pathetic coward caught in his own trap.
