Chapter 7 - The Arrest in Miami
The sun was shining brightly over South Beach when two unmarked law enforcement cruisers pulled up to the valet stand of the Imperial Ocean Club.
Vanessa Cross sat by the pool wearing oversized designer sunglasses, sipping a mimosa, and reading a fashion magazine. She had spent the morning browsing real estate listings for a penthouse overlooking the marina, completely convinced that her tracks were covered and that Eleanor Vance was merely a foolish old woman nursing her hurt feelings in a quiet suburb.
Two female state troopers in uniform walked across the marble pool deck, followed by two plainclothes detectives.
“Vanessa Thorne, also known as Vanessa Cross?” the lead detective asked, pulling a gold badge from his pocket.
Vanessa set her glass down, frowning through her dark lenses. “Excuse me? Do you know who I am? I am a guest at this club.”
“We have an interstate arrest warrant issued by the State of Pennsylvania,” the detective stated calmly. “You are under arrest for grand larceny, corporate fraud, and interstate transport of stolen property.”
The poolside crowd turned to watch as the troopers pulled Vanessa up from her lounge chair, twisting her arms behind her back and snapping heavy steel handcuffs over her wrists.
“This is a mistake!” Vanessa shrieked, her expensive sunglasses falling off her face and shattering on the concrete. “My husband is the COO of Vance Logistics! Call Daniel! Call his mother!”
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“Your husband is currently being questioned by federal prosecutors, ma’am,” the officer noted coldly, escorting her past the gasping sunbathers. “And Mrs. Vance is the one who pressed the charges.”
As she was shoved into the back of the police cruiser, her designer dress rumpled and her hair disheveled, Vanessa finally realized that the quiet, gentle woman whose sauce she had dumped down the drain was the architect of her absolute downfall.
