Chapter 26 - THE LIVE FEED
The rain tapped rhythmically against the metal roof of the broadcast truck, filling the tense silence between us.
Detective Marcus Brody stood with his feet planted wide, his service weapon steady, pointing directly between my eyes.
"You've caused Evelyn a tremendous amount of trouble, Nora," Brody said, stepping forward through the muddy puddles.
"Thirty years ago, Arthur Vance died because he wouldn't listen to reason. Don't make the same mistake."
My breath hitched in my throat as Brody's words sank into the cold mountain air.
"Arthur didn't die in an accident," I whispered, the final missing piece of the horrific puzzle locking into place.
Brody offered a thin, sickening smirk, keeping his gun leveled at my chest.
"Arthur was going to confess everything to the press," Brody said, his voice flat and practical.
"He was going to ruin his family, destroy the Vance name, and cut Evelyn out of the trust."
"I cut his brake lines on the mountain pass, and Evelyn gave me half a million dollars through Pelican Trust."
"A clean transaction. Until you showed up thirty years later looking like your father's ghost."
Behind Brody, Dave—Sarah’s fiancé—slipped quietly into the dark side door of the broadcast truck.
Inside the van, the faint blue hum of video monitors flickered to life against the tinted glass windows.
Sarah stood between me and Brody, her hands raised, shielding my body with her own.
"Shoot an unarmed nurse and a pregnant woman, Brody?" Sarah challenged, her voice steady and loud.
"There are security cameras all over these fairgrounds. You can't cover this up."
"There are no cameras running during the off-season, young lady," Brody replied calmly.
"And when the state police find three bodies here, the story will be that Nora Vance resisted arrest with an accomplice."
"Now step aside, or I'll put a bullet through both of you right now."
Brody took another step forward, his finger tightening around the trigger of his Glock.
Suddenly, a massive blinding white light erupted from the roof of the broadcast truck.
A ten-thousand-watt production stage light flooded Brody's face, instantly blinding him with searing brilliance.
Brody recoiled, raising his left arm to shield his eyes, shouting a curse as he blinked against the whiteout.
"Nora, get in!" Dave roared from the open rear doors of the production van.
Sarah grabbed my hand, yanking me forward with all her strength as Brody fired a blind shot into the rain.
The bullet sparked off the metal bumper of the van, whistling into the darkness.
We scrambled into the rear of the truck, and Sarah slammed the heavy soundproof steel doors shut, locking the internal latches.
Outside, Brody pounded furiously on the steel doors, firing two rounds straight into the heavy lock mechanism.
The reinforced steel held, the bullets flattening harmlessly against the heavy armor plating of the news vehicle.
Inside, Dave was frantically typing commands across three glowing computer consoles.
"The uplink is locked!" Dave yelled over the sound of Brody's gunfire outside. "We have priority feed over Channel 6 News!"
"How long do we have before they cut the broadcast from the main station?" I asked, gasping for breath against the counter.
"Three minutes maximum," Dave said, shoving a wireless lavalier microphone onto the collar of my torn sweater.
"Once the station director realizes we hijacked the signal, he'll hit the emergency studio kill switch."
"Three minutes is all I need," I said, leaning over the glass desk facing the high-definition studio camera.
Dave hit a large red button on the master control console.
A red tally light on top of the camera flickered, turned solid, and began to glow like a burning ember.
*ON AIR.*
Across the entire state, the early morning news broadcast of the governor's press briefing suddenly cut to black.
A second later, my bruised, bloodstained face appeared on over two million television screens.
"My name is Nora Vance," I said, my voice echoing clear, fierce, and unbroken into the microphone.
"Five hours ago, an Amber Alert was issued claiming I shot my husband, Ryan Vance."
"That is a lie manufactured by Evelyn Vance and Detective Marcus Brody of the County Criminal Investigations Division."
I lifted the waterproof folder, holding Arthur Vance's original birth certificate directly up to the high-definition lens.
"Thirty years ago, Evelyn Vance sold me as an infant to hide her husband’s scandal and steal his hundred-million-dollar estate."
"Tonight, after Ryan and I uncovered the proof in Arthur Vance’s private safe, Evelyn sent hitmen to murder us in our home."
I held up the certified check copies, the wire transfers to Pelican Trust, and Marcus Brody’s signed NDAs.
"Detective Marcus Brody is outside this broadcast truck right now, trying to shoot his way through the steel doors."
"He murdered Arthur Vance thirty years ago by sabotaging his vehicle, and he shot Ryan Vance three hours ago in our cellar."
"Ryan is currently in critical condition at St. Jude’s Hospital, where Brody’s men are planning to finish him off."
"If you are watching this, send the State Police and the FBI to St. Jude’s Hospital immediately."
"My name is Nora Vance. I am Arthur Vance's only biological child. And I will not be silenced."
The red tally light suddenly snapped off as the main studio in the capital finally pulled the emergency plug.
The monitors went black.
Outside the truck, the pounding on the steel doors suddenly ceased.
Through the narrow tinted window, I saw Detective Marcus Brody lowering his smoking weapon, his face ghostly white.
May you like
Across the fairgrounds, the wail of dozens of sirens tore through the morning fog, converging on our position from every direction.
***
