Chapter 8 - The Miami Breakdown
Three hours earlier, outside the Neon Palms Motel on Biscayne Boulevard, Miami, the Florida afternoon heat was thick, humid, and oppressive.
The motel was a run-down, two-story relic with peeling pink paint, a flickering neon sign that buzzed incessantly, and an empty swimming pool filled with cracked green tiles. It was miles away from the glittering, five-star luxury of South Beach.
On the stained asphalt outside Room 14, Evelyn Vance sat perched on an overturned plastic milk crate, her silk designer caftan now smeared with dirt and sweat. Her hair, usually coiffed in an immaculate salon blowout, was wild and matted against her face.
Beside her, Chloe was sitting on the curb, sobbing uncontrollably.
"My skin is breaking out, Mom!" Chloe wailed, waving her manicured hands in the air. "The water in that room is brown! Brown! And there are roaches in the bathroom! I can’t stay here! Call one of your friends to wire us money!"
"Shut up, Chloe!" Evelyn snapped, her voice shrill and cracked from screaming. "Who am I supposed to call? Your father’s family hates me! David has blocked every card, and the bank manager told me over the payphone that our accounts are frozen under a federal hold! Do you think I want to be sitting here in this filthy gutter?!"
A few feet away, Mark paced back and forth like a caged animal. He was sweating through his linen shirt, his eyes darting frantically down the boulevard.
"My BMW is gone," Mark muttered over and over, his hands gripping his head. "They towed it right in front of the valet! The repo guy said it was reported stolen by David Vance! Do you know what happens if the cops pull the registration on that car? I had two unlicensed handguns in the trunk! And David’s corporate laptop!"
"You had what?!" Evelyn shrieked, standing up so fast the milk crate tumbled over. "Are you insane, Mark?! Why did you have stolen weapons in that car?!"
"Because I was supposed to sell them to a guy in Hialeah tonight to pay for the LIV table!" Mark screamed back, stepping into Evelyn’s face. "Your golden boy cut the cards! We had fifty grand in pending reservations! Who else was going to pay for it?!"
Ethan, leaning against the balcony railing on the second floor, suddenly leaned over and whistled sharply.
"Yo! Look at the street!"
Three unmarked black Ford Explorers and two marked Miami Beach police cruisers turned sharply off Biscayne Boulevard, tires screeching as they entered the cracked parking lot of the motel.
They didn't approach slowly.
They moved with tactical precision, cutting off the two exits, boxing in the run-down motel entirely.
"Oh God," Chloe gasped, scrambling to her feet, her designer sunglasses falling to the pavement and shattering under her foot. "Mom... Mom, they’re here! The police are here!"
"Keep your mouths shut," Evelyn hissed, though her hands were shaking so violently she could barely smooth down her caftan. "I’ll handle this. They can’t arrest us for a family dispute. David is just trying to scare us. Stand tall. Act like we belong here."
The doors of the patrol cars flew open.
Four uniformed officers and two plainclothes detectives stepped out, their hands resting firmly on the holsters of their service weapons.
"Evelyn Vance! Chloe Vance! Mark Davis!" the lead detective, a no-nonsense woman with a silver badge hanging from her neck, announced through a megaphone. "Keep your hands where we can see them and step toward the center of the parking lot!"
Evelyn put on her most indignant, high-society glare and took two steps forward.
"Officers, thank heavens you’re here!" Evelyn shouted, putting a hand to her chest in theatrical relief. "My son has suffered a complete mental breakdown! He has stolen our money, locked us out of our hotel, and left us stranded in this dangerous neighborhood! I demand you provide us with a police escort to the airport immediately!"
The female detective didn't even blink.
"Evelyn Vance, you are under arrest pursuant to an interstate felony warrant issued by the State of New York. You are charged with aggravated assault, child endangerment, depraved indifference to human life, grand larceny in the first degree, and bank fraud."
Evelyn froze. The color drained from her face until she looked like a walking corpse.
"What... what did you just say?"
"Turn around and place your hands behind your back," the detective commanded, unhooking a pair of steel handcuffs.
"No! You can’t do this!" Chloe shrieked, turning to run back toward Room 14.
"Suspect running!" an officer shouted.
Before Chloe could take four strides, two officers tackled her onto the rough asphalt. Chloe let out an ear-piercing scream as her face was pressed into the gravel, her designer clothes ripping against the concrete.
"Get off me! I’m an influencer! You’re hurting me! My brother works for the government, he’ll have you fired!"
Mark tried to slip behind an ice machine, but an officer drew his taser and leveled the red dot square on his chest. "Down on the ground! Face down! Hands out flat! Move and you get five thousand volts!"
Mark instantly dropped like a sack of stones, shaking with terror, weeping into the pavement. "Don't shoot! Don't tase me! It was all Evelyn’s idea! She planned everything! She told us to leave the girl to die!"
*"Mark, you coward! Shut up!"* Evelyn screamed as the female detective grabbed her wrists and wrenched them behind her back.
The cold steel clicked shut around Evelyn’s wrists with a final, brutal snap.
"You can't treat me like this!" Evelyn yelled, writhing against the officer’s grip as she was marched toward the back of the cruiser. "I am a respectable woman! My son will pay you off! He will fix this! David! David, tell them to let me go!"
The detective pushed Evelyn into the hard plastic back seat of the cruiser.
"Your son is the one who signed the warrant, lady," the detective said, slamming the heavy door shut.
May you like
Evelyn pressed her tear-streaked face against the reinforced glass, staring out at the flashing blue and red lights that illuminated the run-down motel parking lot, realizing for the very first time that her golden goose had finally built the cage she would spend the rest of her life in.
---
