Chapter 10 - The Suburban Diner
The neon sign of the Route 9 diner buzzed against the damp asphalt, casting a sickly pink and green glow over the empty parking lot. It was past midnight, and the only vehicle besides my sedan was a faded blue hatchback parked near the side dumpster.
I killed my headlights and coasted into a space by the payphone. The bell above the diner door jingled as I pushed my way inside. The air smelled of stale grease, brewed coffee, and floor wax. A lone woman sat in a cracked vinyl booth near the back, staring down at a cold cup of black coffee, her fingers twisting a paper napkin into tight, frayed ribbons.
I walked back and slid into the opposite side of the booth without asking.
She flinched, her head snapping up. Sarah Miller looked exhausted, her eyes ringed with dark circles and her trench coat rumpled as if she'd been sleeping in it for days.
"You're Thomas Vance," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
"And you're the only person who can stop Genevieve from stealing three generations of my family's history tomorrow morning," I said, keeping my voice level. "I have the burner phone, Sarah. I know about the leverage she has over your brother's medical trust."
Sarah stared at me for a long, agonizing seconds, her breath catching in her throat. She looked toward the bored teenage waiter leaning against the counter, then back at me. A single tear slipped down her cheek, cutting a clean path through the diner dust on her face.
"She told me if I didn't sign the registry as primary witness, she'd pull the funding for his experimental treatments by Monday," Sarah whispered, her hands shaking so badly she had to press them flat against the sticky table. "She isn't just marrying into the family, Mr. Vance. She's liquidating every asset through an offshore shell company before noon tomorrow. Here."
She reached into her oversized leather tote bag and pulled out a thick manila envelope, sliding it across the formica table.
I opened the flap. Inside lay the signed, unredacted affidavit detailing the forced falsification of the trust documents, complete with Genevieve's direct signature and bank routing numbers.
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"This is everything," Sarah breathed, her voice trembling. "Just... please keep my brother out of it."
"He's safe," I said, sliding the envelope into my interior jacket pocket beside the encrypted phone. "You've just broken the whole game wide open."
