Chapter 9 - The final corner
The federal agents immediately launched a massive manhunt, sweeping the airfield with searchlights and police dogs. Paramedics wrapped Lila and me in thick thermal blankets, giving us oxygen masks to clear our lungs. "She cannot have gotten far," Sterling assured me, handing me a warm cup of water. Suddenly, Lila reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her cracked cell phone. "Mom," she whispered hoarsely, pulling the oxygen mask away from her face. "I slipped my phone into her briefcase when she dragged me onto the plane." I stared at my brilliant daughter in absolute awe. "I turned on the live location sharing right before the crash," Lila explained. Sterling immediately grabbed the phone and showed the flashing blue dot to the FBI commander. "She is moving north on the interstate, hiding inside a commercial delivery truck," the commander shouted into his radio. We watched the screen intensely as dozens of police cruisers intercepted the signal twenty miles away. The radio crackled to life a few minutes later, filling the quiet ambulance with tense static. "Target is cornered at the harbor, she has nowhere left to run," a federal agent reported. We rode with Sterling and the commander toward the docks, needing to see this nightmare end with our own eyes. When we arrived, Eleanor was standing at the edge of a massive concrete pier. Dozens of officers had their weapons trained directly on her chest. The cold ocean waves crashed violently against the wooden pylons far below her expensive shoes. "It is over, Eleanor, put your hands on your head," the commander ordered over a megaphone. Eleanor looked at me standing safely by the ambulance, her face completely twisted in pure, hateful rage. She reached inside her ruined jacket, pulling out a small, silver handgun. Instead of aiming it at the police, she pointed the barrel directly at her own chest.
