Chapter 8 - The Family Viper
The next morning, the sun broke over the horizon, painting the cold winter sky in pale shades of orange and grey.
I didn't go to work. I took a personal leave day, dressed in a sharp suit, and drove straight to the Municipal Building downtown.
Mayor Thomas Sterling sat behind his massive mahogany desk on the top floor, sipping black tea from a china cup. He was sixty-two, with silver hair, a manicured mustache, and a warm, grandfatherly smile that had won him four consecutive elections.
He looked up when I walked into his office without knocking, his administrative assistant trailing behind me nervously.
“Mark!” Sterling exclaimed, spreading his arms wide as if welcoming a beloved son. “I heard about the terrifying ordeal Sarah went through last night! Deputy Miller called me at dawn. It’s horrific! Thank God Vance is behind bars!”
I walked up to his desk, took the Manila folder from my briefcase, and slammed it down onto his blotter.
“Save it, Thomas,” I said, my voice ringing out across the quiet office.
Sterling’s smile flickered, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “Excuse me?”
“You placed an illegal environmental lien on my children’s trust land twenty-one days ago,” I said, leaning over his desk. “You fed Vance the confidential probate files. You knew Sarah was the sole signatory on the trust release forms, and you knew I was working the night shift at the station.”
Sterling set his teacup down with a quiet, deliberate clack. He reached over, closed the door to his office, and pulled down the blinds.
When he turned back to me, the warm uncle mask was entirely gone. In its place was the cold, calculating expression of a seasoned politician.
“That land has been sitting idle for twenty years, Mark,” Sterling said smoothly, sitting back in his leather chair. “A lithium processing plant wants to build a fifty-million-dollar facility on that riverfront parcel. The tax revenue alone would fund this county’s schools for a generation.”
“And how much of that fifty million goes into your private campaign fund, Thomas?” I asked.
May you like
“Your children don't need a forty-acre swamp, Mark!” Sterling snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. “I offered Vance fifteen percent of the development rights if he could secure Sarah’s signature quietly. I didn't tell him to lock her in a car! I didn't tell him to threaten the kids!”
“You set the dog loose, Thomas,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket. “And now the dog is singing to the FBI.”
