Chapter 5 - The Arrival
Forty-eight hours later.
The afternoon sun blazed over the Mercer estate in the gated equestrian enclave of Golden Ocala.
The heavy iron gates that I had demolished two days prior had been temporarily replaced by yellow police tape and wooden barricades. Inside the three-story Georgian mansion, Victoria Mercer was sitting in the formal parlor sipping sweet tea with her son, Gabriel.
Gabriel looked nervous. He had a glass of scotch in his hand, his eyes bloodshot, his polo shirt rumpled. "Mom... the police haven't called back about the toxicology report. Julian said they were supposed to dismiss the charges against me yesterday."
"Relax, Gabriel," Victoria snapped, smoothing her silk blouse. "Julian is handling the state attorney. Charles Bennett is a nobody. He’s an old retired sergeant living off a meager pension. He can't afford a real lawyer. By next week, Chloe will be back in this house, and this whole mess will be swept under the rug."
Suddenly, the low, deep rumble of heavy diesel engines echoed down the private driveway.
Gabriel frowned, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the front lawn. "Mom... what is that?"
Victoria stood up, holding her teacup, and joined him at the window.
A fleet of five black Chevrolet Suburbans with tinted windows and official government plates pulled past the shattered entrance gate, followed by two military police tactical trucks. The convoy swept up the circular gravel driveway, surrounding the Mercer mansion in a tight, tactical perimeter.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Victoria gasped, her tea spilling onto her rug. "Are those state troopers?!"
The doors of the lead Suburban swung open.
Four heavily armed soldiers dressed in full tactical gear and dark green berets stepped out, establishing a security boundary around the front porch.
Then, the rear door of the middle Suburban opened.
A tall man stepped out into the bright Florida sunlight.
He was dressed in the dark olive-drab Army Service Uniform. His chest was covered in four rows of colorful ribbon bars, combat jump wings, and a Distinguished Service Cross. On his shoulders, shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun, were three silver stars.
Behind him stepped out Colonel Marcus Vance, three military attorneys, and the United States Marshal for the Middle District of Florida.
Gabriel’s glass of scotch slipped from his fingers, crashing onto the hardwood floor, shattering into a hundred pieces.
"That's... that's her father," Gabriel whispered, his voice cracking with pure horror.
Victoria stood frozen, her face completely drained of color, her teacup trembling in her hand until it rattled violently against the saucer.
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"No..." she breathed, stepping back from the glass. "No... that's impossible... he's just a farmer..."
I adjusted my uniform cap, looked up at the second-floor window where Victoria was standing, and began walking slowly up the front steps of the Mercer estate.
