Chapter 6 - The Trap Springs-6
Evelyn, Pamela, Gregory, and Derek stood frozen like statues, staring at Walter Lawson as if a ghost had materialized from the concrete floor.
The old man walked with a slow, deliberate cadence, his iron-tipped cane clicking sharply against the tile. His pale blue eyes burned with absolute, unyielding authority.
“You look surprised, Rachel,” Walter said, stopping beside Lucas. “Did you think seventy-two hours without water would be enough to finish what two years of low-grade poison couldn't?”
Gregory’s face turned from red to ash-grey. “Walter... this... this is a misunderstanding! We went to the Bahamas for a family vacation... we left instructions for the home care nurses—”
“There were no nurses, Gregory,” Lucas interrupted, pulling a printed copy of the note from his pocket and dropping it on the table. “Rachel left a handwritten note under a cedar box on the kitchen table. 'Don't waste money on nurses. They've already been paid too much.'”
Marcus Thorne stepped forward, pulling a thick leather folder from his briefcase and opening it in front of the two Cayman corporate attorneys who had accompanied Derek.
“Gentlemen,” Thorne said smoothly to the Cayman lawyers. “I suggest you examine these documents before your clients release forty million dollars from escrow.”
The Cayman attorneys immediately leaned over the table, scanning the legal papers. Their eyes widened with every passing page.
“These are certified court injunctions issued by the Idaho Federal District Court forty-eight hours ago,” Thorne explained. “They freeze all corporate voting rights held under the forged power-of-attorney. Furthermore, this document from 1890 proves that the forty thousand acres of timberland are non-transferable tribal trust land. Lawson Timber Works does not own the land; it only holds a revocable timber harvesting lease that expires if the corporate officers engage in felony fraud.”
The lead Cayman attorney snapped his briefcase shut, looking at Derek with profound fury. “The deal is off. Cancel the escrow wire immediately!”
“No! Wait!” Derek yelled, his suave demeanor instantly evaporating into frantic panic. “The land is valid! The power-of-attorney was signed by Walter himself!”
“It was signed while Walter was being systematically poisoned by Pamela Lawson,” Dr. Reynolds’ voice came through a speaker on Thorne’s phone. “I have submitted full forensic toxicology reports and video evidence from four concealed cameras inside the home to the FBI.”
At that moment, the heavy steel doors of the bank lobby above slammed open.
Four plainclothes agents from the Royal Bahamas Police Force, accompanied by two US Federal Marshals, walked down the marble stairs into the vault room.
“Derek Pendelton, Rachel Lawson, Gregory Lawson, and Pamela Lawson,” the lead US Marshal announced, pulling out a sheaf of federal arrest warrants. “You are under arrest for international financial fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, corporate embezzlement, and illegal interstate poisoning.”
Rachel burst into hysterical tears, turning to Lucas, grabbing his jacket lapels. “Lucas! Please! Tell them it’s a mistake! I was forced into this by Derek! He manipulated me! I love you, Lucas!”
Lucas looked down at her hands on his jacket—the same hands that had written the note leaving her grandfather to die in a dark room.
He slowly, calmly reached down, unclasped her fingers from his clothes, and stepped back beside Walter.
“You didn't love me, Rachel,” Lucas said quietly, his voice devoid of anger, filled only with total clarity. “You loved the money you thought you could steal over my dead body.”
The Bahamian police officers stepped forward, pulling Rachel’s arms behind her back and clicking heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists. Pamela sank to her knees, weeping hysterically, while Gregory stood paralyzed as cuffs were slapped onto his wrists as well.
Derek tried to bolt toward the side emergency exit, but a Federal Marshal stepped smoothly into his path, slamming him against the cold steel vault door and cuffing his hands behind him.
“This isn't over, Parker!” Derek spat, his face pressed against the steel. “My father’s legacy will destroy you!”
Walter stepped up to Derek, looking down at the son of his former rival.
“Your father was a thief, Derek,” Walter said softly. “And you are just a foolish boy who thought murder was a business strategy.”
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As the police led the screaming family up the marble stairs, Walter turned to Lucas, laying a heavy, warm hand on his shoulder.
“Come, Lucas,” Walter said. “We have a sawmill to run.”
