Part 5: The Snake in the Grass
Derek Bennett sat in a dim, smoky bar three miles away, sipping a glass of cheap bourbon. His hands were shaking, but not from the cold—from excitement.
He looked at his watch. 11:30 PM.
It had been four hours since he locked Grace in the freezer. At minus fifty, the medical examiner would later state that death occurred within two hours due to cardiac arrest brought on by severe hypothermia. It would look like a tragic accident. An expectant mother, nesting, helping her stressed husband with inventory, accidentally tripping the heavy safety latch that he had "forgotten" to service.
The insurance policy was ironclad. Triple indemnity for accidental death on commercial property. $1.2 million. Enough to pay off the loan sharks and start over in Miami.
His phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. He answered it quickly, expecting his foreman or the security company.
"Hello?"
"Derek."
The voice was cold, deep, and instantly recognizable. It wasn't the police. It was Ethan Vance.
Derek’s heart skipped a beat. "Ethan? Why are you calling me at this hour? I’m out of town on a business trip..."
"You’re at O'Malley's Pub on 4th Street, Derek. And you haven't left town," Ethan said smoothly. "I’m outside."
Derek choked on his drink. He stood up, knocking his stool over, and looked out the grimy window of the bar. Standing across the street, under the flickering amber glow of a streetlamp, was Ethan Vance. He was wearing a fresh coat, but his expression was that of a grim reaper. Behind him stood two large black SUVs with tinted windows.
Panic, raw and cold, seized Derek. How does he know? Did she yell loud enough for someone to hear? No, that freezer is soundproof.
Derek rushed out the back exit of the bar, sprinting down the dark alleyway. He just needed to get to his car. If he could get to Canada, he could figure out a new plan.
But as he reached the end of the alley, a massive figure stepped out of the shadows. Marcus.
Before Derek could scream, Marcus grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him against the brick wall, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
Ethan walked up slowly, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. He stopped a foot away from Derek, looking at him with absolute disgust.
"You missed a few details in your perfect plan, Derek," Ethan said softly.
"I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go, or I’ll call the cops!" Derek shrieked.
"Please, call them," Ethan invited, pulling Derek's phone from his pocket and holding it out. "Tell them how you locked your eight-month-pregnant wife in a pharmaceutical freezer to collect a million dollars. Tell them how you left her to freeze to death in the dark."
Derek’s face drained of all color. "She... she told you? She's alive?"
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"She is alive," Ethan said, leaning in close, his voice a dangerous whisper. "And so are your children. A boy and a girl. But they are no longer yours. You signed their death warrants tonight, Derek. Now, you’re going to pay your debts. Just not to the loan sharks."
Ethan nodded to Marcus. "Take him to the private holding cell at the docks. The police will get him when I am done securing Grace's safety."
