The Judge's Fall

Judge Harold Brennan's POV

Judge Harold Brennan stared at his father lying dead on the office floor, blood spreading across the expensive carpet like spilled wine.

No, wait. Not his father. Mayor Richard Whitfield. The idiot who'd just given everything for his worthless son.

Brennan's hand shook as he held the burning gun. His shoulder burned where Whitfield's bullet had clipped him, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.

"Dad!" Tommy screamed, dropping to his knees beside the mayor's body.

Brennan looked at the phone in Tommy's other hand, still recording everything. His confession. The shooting. All of it recorded forever.

Twenty years of careful planning destroyed in one stupid night.

"Give me that phone," Brennan ordered, pointing his gun at Tommy.

Danny Santos grabbed Tommy's arm and pulled him toward the door. "Run!"

The boys scrambled out of the office before Brennan could stop them. His hurt shoulder made his aim terrible, and his shots missed, punching holes in the doorframe.

He was alone now. Alone with a dead mayor and a recorded statement spreading across the internet like wildfire.

Through his office window, Brennan could see groups gathering in the streets below. Hundreds of people, maybe thousands, all looking at their phones. Emma Morrison's radio broadcast had already revealed Webb's crimes. Now Tommy's recording was showing everyone that Judge Brennan was just as guilty.

His phone buzzed with texts. Dozens of them. Hundreds.

Sheriff Morrison: They're coming for you. Get out now.

His secretary: Judge, what have you done?

His own daughter: How could you, Dad?

But the word that made his blood run cold came from Marcus Webb: You're on your own, old friend. I've got a plane waiting.

"No," Brennan whispered. "You coward."

Webb was running. Leaving Brennan behind to face the angry mob alone.

Twenty years they'd worked together. Twenty years of partnership, of protecting each other, of building their kingdom of corruption brick by brick. And now Webb was leaving him like yesterday's trash.

Brennan stumbled to his office safe, his damaged shoulder screaming with pain. Inside were the files that could destroy them both—bank records, photographs, videos of every crime they'd committed together.

If he was going down, Webb was coming with him.

He spun the safe's combination with shaking fingers. The door swung open, showing stacks of folders and USB drives containing twenty years of secrets.

But something was wrong.

The most important folder—the one marked "Insurance"—was gone.

Brennan's heart stopped. That folder held proof of Webb's worst crimes. Murders Webb had ordered. Politicians Webb had paid. Even proof linking Webb to the death of Brennan's own wife five years ago.

Webb had killed Mrs. Brennan because she'd threatened to reveal their operation. Brennan had helped cover it up, telling everyone she'd died in a car accident. But he'd kept the real proof hidden, knowing someday he might need protection from his dangerous partner.

"He took it," Brennan realized with growing fear. "Webb knew I had insurance against him, and he stole it." When? How long had Webb been trying to betray him?

Angry shouts echoed from downstairs. The building doors shook as the crowd tried to break in.

"Judge Brennan!" someone yelled. "Come out and face justice!"

Brennan looked at the leftover files in his safe. There was still enough evidence here to hurt Webb, but not enough to destroy him totally. Not enough to make Webb pay for his deception.

Unless... Brennan's mind raced through options. Webb thought he was safe because he had the most dangerous proof. But Webb didn't know about Brennan's backup plan.

Six months ago, Brennan had copied everything to a second USB drive and hidden it somewhere Webb would never think to look. He'd been paranoid, worried that one day their relationship might end badly.

Turned out his anxiety was smart.

The building doors finally gave way with a tremendous crash. Footsteps thundered up the marble stairs—dozens of people, maybe more, all coming for him.

Brennan grabbed the leftover files from his safe and shoved them into his briefcase. He had maybe two minutes before the mob reached his office.

There was a back staircase that went to the underground parking garage. If he moved fast, he might escape before they caught him.

But escape to where? His face would be all over the news. His bank accounts would be frozen. Every cop in the state would be hunting him.

No, he couldn't run. Not yet.

First, he needed to get that backup USB drive. Then he needed to make sure Marcus Webb paid for his betrayal.

Brennan hurried to the private bathroom connected to his office. Behind the mirror was a hidden panel he'd put years ago, leading to the old servant passages that ran through the courthouse's walls.

The angry voices were getting closer.

"He's up here somewhere!"

"Check every room!"

Brennan slipped through the opening and pulled it closed behind him just as the mob burst into his office. He stood in the darkness of the secret tunnel, listening to them tear his office apart looking for him.

"He's gone!"

"Check the windows! Maybe he jumped!"

Brennan smiled grimly. Let them look. By the time they found out he'd escaped, he'd be long gone.

He made his way through the dark tunnels, his wounded shoulder throbbing with each step. Blood dripped from his jacket onto the dusty floor, leaving a trail.

But he didn't care about blood tracks. He cared about justice.

Marcus Webb thought he was safe on his private plane, flying away to some country without an extradition pact. Webb thought destroying Brennan would save himself.

Webb was wrong.

Brennan reached the end of the passage and pushed open a hidden door that led to the courtroom basement. The parking garage was just ahead, and his car was waiting right where he'd left it.

But as he stepped toward his car, Brennan heard something that made him freeze.

A voice. Familiar and cold as ice.

"Hello, Harold."

Brennan spun around and found himself looking at the last person he'd ever expected to see.

Emma Morrison stood in the darkness, but she wasn't alone.

Standing beside the young radio host was someone Brennan had thought was dead for five years.

His wife.

Mrs. Helen Brennan, living and smiling, holding a gun pointed straight at her husband's heart.

"Surprised, dear?" Helen asked sweetly. "You should be. After all, you helped Marcus Webb kill me."

Brennan's world turned sideways. This was impossible. He'd seen Helen's body. He'd identified her remains. He'd buried her.

"But you're... you're dead," he stammered.

"No," Helen amended. "I was smart. When I learned what you and Webb were planning, I faked my death and disappeared. I've been waiting five years for the right moment to destroy you both."

Emma Morrison stepped forward, her eyes blazing with victory. "Meet my mother, Judge Brennan. The woman you and Marcus Webb tried to kill. The woman who's been helping me bring down your whole corrupt business."

Brennan's gun fell from his numb fingers.

Everything—the radio broadcast, Emma's probe, even tonight's chaos—had all been planned by his supposedly dead wife.

"Helen, please," Brennan begged. "I never wanted to hurt you. Webb forced me—"

"Save it," Helen interrupted. "I've heard enough of your lies for one lifetime."

Behind Brennan, the mob's voices got louder. They were searching the basement now, getting closer.

Helen's smile grew wider. "Here's what's going to happen, Harold. You're going to tell me where Marcus Webb is running to. Then you're going to give me every piece of proof you have against him. And if you help, I might let you live long enough to see him arrested."

"And if I don't cooperate?" Brennan asked.

Helen's gun didn't flinch. "Then I'll shoot you right here and tell everyone you tried to attack us. After everything you've done tonight, nobody would question it."

Brennan looked at his wife—the woman he'd betrayed, the woman he'd tried to kill, the woman who'd spent five years plotting her payback.

He had a choice to make.

Die here and now, or help Helen destroy Marcus Webb and maybe, just maybe, live long enough to find a way out of this nightmare.

"Webb is flying to Venezuela," Brennan said finally. "He has a private airport thirty miles north of here. His plane leaves in two hours."

Emma pulled out her phone. "I'm calling the state cops. They can stop him before he takes off."

"No," Helen said sharply. "The state cops might be corrupted too. We need someone we can trust completely."

That's when Brennan noticed something strange in the shadows behind Helen and Emma.

Movement. Someone else was down here in the darkness, listening to everything.

Before Brennan could warn them, a familiar voice spoke from the darkness.

"How sweet. A family reunion."

Marcus Webb stepped into the light, surrounded by four armed men. His private protection team, all carrying automatic weapons.

Webb smiled at Helen like he was meeting an old friend. "I have to admit, Helen, faking your death was clever. I actually believed you were gone. But I've been watching the courthouse security cameras all night. When I saw you down here facing Harold, I just had to come see for myself."

Brennan felt his last hope die. Webb hadn't run after all. He'd been watching, waiting for the right moment to tie up all his loose ends at once.

"Marcus," Helen said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You can still walk away from this."

"Walk away?" Webb laughed. "My dear Helen, I'm not walking anywhere. I'm going to kill all three of you, burn this courthouse to the ground, and leave with enough money to live like a king for the rest of my life."

He raised his gun, pointing it at Helen's head.

"Starting with you."

But before Webb could pull the trigger, the basement burst with gunfire.

Not from Webb's gun.

From everywhere.