Chapter 7 - The Frame Job
The Police Chief slowly cocked the hammer of his weapon.
He proudly announced that Margaret had just filed a frantic missing persons report on national television.
She had completely convinced the media that I was a mentally unstable thief who had stolen charity funds and abducted her beloved grandchildren.
I was no longer just a victim.
I was now the most wanted fugitive in the entire state.
Richard did not hesitate for a single second.
He grabbed a heavy brass stanchion from the lobby floor and hurled it directly through the bank's massive glass window.
The glass shattered into a million pieces, triggering an ear-piercing security alarm.
The sudden noise distracted the corrupt police officers just long enough.
Richard grabbed my waist and tackled me through the shattered window.
We landed hard on the wet pavement outside, rolling to absorb the brutal impact.
Bullets shattered the concrete around us as we scrambled into a dark alleyway.
Richard whistled sharply, and his armored black sedan roared out of a side street, driven by his security chief.
We dove into the backseat as the car sped away, leaving the corrupt police force eating our dust.
My entire body ached, and my hands were covered in bloody scratches from the broken glass.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened a news application.
Margaret's tearful face was plastered across every single channel.
She was crying fake tears, begging the public to help her find her precious, missing granddaughters.
She had successfully framed me for her own embezzlement crimes using forged financial documents.
I looked at Richard in absolute despair.
I told him that the documents in my pocket were useless if the entire police force was on Margaret's payroll.
We needed the original digital files with their digital timestamps to prove the forgery.
Richard agreed, but he said Michael's laptop was the only place those files existed.
I closed my eyes and remembered exactly where Michael had hidden his old laptop.
He had concealed it inside a hollow space behind the washing machines in the Whitmore mansion's basement.
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I looked at Richard with fierce determination in my eyes.
I told him I was going back into the lion's den tonight.
