Chapter 15 - The Country Club Summit
The Edgewood Country Club in Stateline, Nevada, was the sort of place where men with third-generation wealth and first-generation greed gathered to trade tips on offshore trusts while looking out over manicured golf greens.
Charles had chosen the Terrace Dining Room for his victory meeting. He believed in stagecraft. He wanted me out of my element—surrounded by waiters in white aprons, clinking silver cutlery, and his wealthy peers—thinking the social pressure would keep me compliant.
When Sarah Vance and I walked through the double mahogany doors at eleven o'clock the following morning, the room went subtly quiet.
I wasn't wearing my service dress uniform, but I wasn't wearing civilian casual either. I wore a tailored charcoal wool suit, my hair pulled back into a severe military bun, my posture straight as a steel rod. Walking beside me, Sarah carried a black leather briefcase with gold-plated clasps, radiating the terrifying energy of a litigator who charged eight hundred dollars an hour to tear lives apart.
Charles was sitting at a corner table with panoramic views of the lake.
Savannah sat beside him, dressed in an cream silk blouse, nervously sipping a mimosa. Derek Higgins, her slick-haired fiancé, sat opposite them in an Italian sports jacket, casually twirling the keys to his Mercedes on the linen tablecloth.
"Evelyn," Charles announced, rising halfway with a rehearsed, benevolent smile designed for the surrounding tables. "Right on time. Please, sit. Order something light. The smoked trout here is magnificent."
"Keep your seat, Charles," I said, remaining standing at the edge of the table.
Savannah shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes. "Evelyn, please don't make a scene. Dad’s trying to fix this for all of us. If we just cooperate, Derek's family can clean up the mess with the Reno group and—"
"Shut up, Savannah," I said without raising my voice.
Derek scowled, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Hey, watch your tone with her. You're the one in legal default, Commander. We came here out of the goodness of our hearts to bail your property out of foreclosure. You should be thanking us."
"Derek Higgins," Sarah Vance chimed in, opening her briefcase with two loud, metallic clicks. "Son of Brenda Higgins. Brenda Higgins who, as of seven-thirty this morning, was suspended from her duties as a licensed notary public by the Secretary of State of Nevada pending a formal criminal investigation."
Derek’s smug smirk vanished instantly. His hand froze on his car keys. "What did you say?"
"Brenda was very cooperative when two investigators from the Nevada Department of Taxation and the Washoe County District Attorney's office knocked on her kitchen door at dawn," Sarah continued, sliding a single sheet of paper into the center of the table, directly between Charles’s eggs benedict and Savannah’s cocktail. "She signed an affidavit confirming that Charles Hayes presented her with a forged power of attorney bearing Commander Hayes’s forged signature, and that Derek here promised her five thousand dollars out of the Carson City land flip to stamp it without verification."
Savannah gasped, dropping her fork onto the plate with a loud clatter. "Derek! You said she had ironclad authorization!"
"Shut your mouth, Savannah!" Derek hissed, his face turning an ugly shade of magenta.
"Sit down, Charles," I said, because my father had slowly risen to his feet, his jaw twitching with uncontrolled rage.
"You have no authority here, Evelyn," Charles whispered, his voice trembling with venom as he leaned over the table. "This is Nevada. You think some two-bit county DA is going to take down a family with my connections? I know the presiding judges in this district. I know the—"
"You don't know the men who are standing in the lobby right now, Charles," I interrupted softly.
The dining room fell deathly quiet.
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Two men in dark suits, wearing earpieces and gold federal lapel pins, stepped through the terrace entrance, accompanied by two armed Douglas County deputies.
***
