Chapter 6 - The Confession in the RainFrank Vance lay pinned against the cold steel hood of the Cadillac, blood pouring from his nose, his broken wrist hanging uselessly at his side, his eyes wide with pure, terrified ruin.
"Please..." Frank choked out, tears of agonizing pain cutting through the grease on his cheeks. "Don't... don't kill me! I didn't know! I didn't know you were like this!"
"You didn't care who I was," I whispered near his ear. "You thought because my daughter was quiet, she had no one to protect her."
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my smartphone, and unlocked the screen, opening the voice recorder app.
"You are going to record a message right now, Frank," I commanded softly.
"What... what message...?" Frank whimpered.
"You are going to state your full name," I instructed, "and you are going to confess that you and your nephew, Dustin Vance, systematically threatened, stalked, and physically assaulted my daughter, Evelyn. And then you are going to transfer the complete title of your commercial properties to her estate as civil restitution."
Frank’s bloodshot eyes widened. "That's... that's two million dollars worth of real estate! I can't do that!"
I tightened my grip around his neck slightly, my thumbs pressing against his carotid artery, cutting off the blood flow to his brain. His vision began to darken around the edges.
"You have ten seconds, Frank," I murmured softly.
"I'LL SIGN IT! I'LL RECORD IT!" Frank shrieked, gasping frantically for air as I loosened my grip. "I'LL GIVE HER EVERYTHING! JUST LET ME LIVE!"
For the next ten minutes, under the cold fluorescent lights of the garage, Frank Vance sat at the card table, his voice trembling as he recorded a full, unredacted video confession detailing his nephew's crimes, his own threats against my family, and his agreement to execute an immediate civil asset transfer to Evelyn.
When the recording was finished, I saved the file to three separate encrypted cloud servers and sent a copy directly to the lead detective at the Chicago Police Department.
I picked up Frank's snub-nosed revolver, unloaded the five lead rounds into my palm, and tossed the empty steel frame into a barrel of dark oil near the lift.
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"If Dustin or any of your men ever step within fifty miles of my daughter or my wife again," I whispered into Frank's ear as he sat weeping at the table, "I won't come to your garage next time. I will hunt you down."
I turned on my heel, stepped out through the broken steel doorway, and walked out into the cool rain, heading toward the hospital to be with my family.
