CHAPTER 8
The documents Daniel gave me were explosive.
They showed that Brian had been running a much larger scam than anyone had realized. He hadn't just been stealing from me. He'd been defrauding investors. Embezzling from his own company. Running a Ponzi scheme that had left dozens of people penniless.
The total amount was in the millions.
I called Sarah immediately. She came over, read through the documents, and went pale.
"This is way bigger than we thought," she said. "Brian isn't just looking at a few years for assault and fraud. He's looking at decades. Federal prison."
"And Daniel is willing to testify?"
"According to what he told you, yes. If he takes the stand and authenticates these documents… Brian is done. He'll spend the rest of his life behind bars."
I felt a strange mix of emotions. Satisfaction that Brian would finally get what he deserved. Horror at the scale of his crimes. And something else. Something darker.
Guilt.
Because if I had figured it out sooner, if I had acted faster, maybe some of those other victims wouldn't have lost their money.
"Don't do that," Sarah said, as if reading my mind. "This isn't your fault. Brian is the one who chose to do this. You're the one who's going to stop him."
The trial date approached. The media caught wind of the story—local boy makes good, turns out to be a monster. Newspapers ran articles. News crews showed up at the house.
I stayed inside. I didn't answer the door. I didn't answer the phone. I let Sarah handle everything.
Victoria called me once, a week before the trial. She was nervous. Scared.
"What if they don't believe me?" she said. "What if Brian's lawyer makes me look like the villain?"
"They won't," I said. "We have the journal. We have Daniel's documents. The truth is on our side."
"I'm so scared, Emma. I've never been in a courtroom before. I've never done anything like this."
"I know. But you're doing the right thing. And when this is over, you can start over. Build a new life. One that's not built on lies."
"Thank you," she said. "For giving me a chance."
The night before the trial, I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything in my head. The airport. The bank. Brian's hands around my throat.
I got up and went to the kitchen. I made myself tea and sat at the table. The house was quiet. Too quiet.
Then I heard a sound.
A soft scraping at the back door.
I froze.
The sound came again. Louder this time.
I stood up slowly. My heart hammered against my ribs. I reached into the drawer and pulled out the large kitchen knife Sarah had insisted I keep.
I walked toward the back door. The scraping stopped. Then I heard a voice.
"Emma. Let me in."
Brian.
My blood turned to ice.
He was supposed to be in jail.
"Emma, I know you're in there. Open the door. We need to talk."
I backed away. I fumbled for my phone with my free hand. I dialed 911.
"There's a man at my back door," I whispered. "My husband. He's supposed to be in jail. Please send someone."
The dispatcher told me officers were on their way. To stay calm. To stay away from the door.
"I know you called the police," Brian called through the door. "But they won't get here in time. Not to save you."
I heard wood splintering. He was breaking the door down.
I ran down the hall to the bedroom. I locked the door and pushed the heavy dresser in front of it. I grabbed my phone and called Sarah. No answer. I called Daniel. No answer.
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the house. He was inside.
"Emma!" His voice was closer now. In the hallway. "You can't hide from me. I know this house. I helped build it."
I climbed out the bedroom window and dropped to the ground. I ran toward the garage. My car was parked inside. If I could just get to it…
I heard the front door of the garage open. Brian stepped out into the moonlight. He was wearing a prison jumpsuit. His face was gaunt. His eyes were wild.
He was holding a gun.
"There you are," he said.
I stopped. The knife was still in my hand, but it felt useless against a gun.
"How did you get out?" I said.
He smiled. A cold, dead smile. "I have friends. People who owe me favors. They helped me. And now I'm here to finish what I started."
He raised the gun.
"You thought you won, didn't you? You thought you could take everything from me and get away with it. But nobody does that to me. Nobody."
"Brian, put the gun down. The police are coming. You'll never get away with this."
"I don't care about getting away. I just want to see you suffer. To watch the light go out of your eyes. Just like you watched my life go down the drain."
He took a step toward me. I backed away. My foot hit something. A garden hose. I looked down. An idea formed.
"You loved my father, didn't you?" I said. "You loved how he trusted you. How he treated you like a son."
Brian's face twisted. "Your father was a fool. Just like you."
"He built this house with his own hands. And you tried to take it from me. You tried to destroy everything he left me."
"I should have burned it to the ground," he snarled.
He took another step. Right onto the garden hose.
I kicked the other end of the hose. Hard.
Brian's feet flew out from under him. He hit the ground hard. The gun went off. The bullet went wide, hitting the side of the garage.
I ran. I tackled him. We rolled across the grass, fighting for the gun. He punched me in the face. Stars exploded behind my eyes. But I held on.
I got my hand on the gun. I wrenched it away from him. I scrambled backward, the gun pointed at him.
"Stay back!" I screamed.
Brian sat up, dazed. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. He looked at me, the gun in my hand, and laughed.
"You won't shoot me," he said. "You don't have it in you. You're too soft. Too weak."
He stood up. He took a step toward me.
"Give me the gun, Emma. And maybe I'll make it quick."
I pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out. Brian froze. He looked down at his shoulder. Blood was spreading across the jumpsuit.
He looked at me, shocked.
"You shot me."
"I told you to stay back."
Sirens wailed in the distance. Blue lights appeared at the end of the driveway.
Brian collapsed to his knees. He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes.
"You really are going to kill me," he whispered.
"No, Brian," I said. I lowered the gun. "I'm not going to kill you. That would be too easy. You're going to live. You're going to live with what you did. And you're going to rot in prison for the rest of your life. That's your punishment. Not death. Life."
The police cars pulled up. Officers jumped out, guns drawn.
"Drop the weapon!"
I set the gun on the grass and put my hands up.
Officers swarmed Brian. They cuffed him. They called for an ambulance.
One officer came over to me. He was young. His face was pale.
"Ma'am, are you okay?"
I touched my face. My cheek was swollen. My lip was split. But I was alive.
"I'm okay," I said.
Sarah showed up ten minutes later. She ran to me and hugged me so tight I could barely breathe.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I missed your call. I was asleep. Oh my God, Emma, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. He's the one who got shot."
"I can't believe he escaped. How is that even possible?"
"He had help. He said he had friends."
Sarah's face hardened. "We'll find out who. And they'll pay too."
Daniel arrived shortly after. He looked at Brian being loaded into the ambulance, then at me.
"I came as soon as I heard," he said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Thanks to a garden hose and a lot of luck."
He looked at the gun lying on the grass. "You shot him?"
"In the shoulder. He's alive. Unfortunately."
Daniel smiled. It was a cold smile. "Good. He deserves to suffer."
The next day, the news exploded. Convicted fraud suspect escapes jail, shot by wife during home invasion.
The trial was delayed while Brian recovered from his wound. But when it finally began, three months later, it was the biggest event in Colorado.
The prosecution laid out their case with clinical precision. The recording from the airport. The journal from under the floorboards. The bank statements. The documents Daniel had provided.
Victoria testified. She was nervous at first, but as she told her story, she found her voice. She told the court about Brian's manipulation. His lies. His violence. She cried when she described the day he'd pulled a gun on her in the office.
Daniel testified next. He told the court about discovering he had a brother. About trying to reach out. About finding out what Brian had done. He authenticated the documents he'd provided. He laid out the full scope of Brian's crimes.
And then I testified.
I told the court about the airport. About the bank. About coming home to find my house destroyed. About Brian's hands around my throat. About that terrible night in the backyard, the gun, the shot.
I didn't cry. I didn't break down. I told the truth. Calmly. Clearly.
The defense tried everything. They tried to paint Victoria as a scorned lover. They tried to say the journal was a forgery. They tried to claim I'd shot Brian in cold blood.
But the evidence was overwhelming.
The jury deliberated for six hours.
When they came back, the courtroom was silent.
The foreman stood up.
"We the jury find the defendant, Brian Carter, guilty on all counts."
I closed my eyes. Relief washed over me. So strong it made me dizzy.
Brian was sentenced to forty-five years in federal prison. With no possibility of parole.
He would be eligible for release when he was seventy-eight years old.
He would die in prison.
After the sentencing, I walked out of the courthouse into the bright Colorado sun. Sarah was on one side of me. Lila on the other. Daniel stood a few feet away, smiling.
May you like
It was over.
Really over.
