Elias finished recording the testimonies and began preparing sworn statement forms. Each witness signed their name with careful precision, documenting decades of buried truth.
"This proves fraud," Elias said, gathering the papers. "Criminal fraud. Greer and Preston's father stole your hotel while you were unconscious."
"And Preston knows it," Altha said quietly. "He's known it all along."
As the meeting ended and the witnesses prepared to leave, Ruth Anne turned back one more time. "Miss Monroe, that boarding house you built, it saved my family when we had nowhere else to go. My husband was out of work. We had three little ones, and every other place in town turned us away because we couldn't pay upfront. You let us stay until he found work again. Never charged us a penny extra."
"You would have done the same for me," Altha replied.
Outside the church, Elias walked the elderly witnesses to their cars, making sure each one got home safely. As he returned to escort Altha to his truck, he noticed something that made him pause. A black SUV sat parked across the street, engine running. No license plate visible from this distance, tinted windows that revealed nothing. As Elias stepped onto the sidewalk, the SUV's headlights flickered on.
The black SUV stayed three cars back as Elias pulled away from the church. He watched it in his rearview mirror while navigating through downtown traffic toward Celeste Harrow's federal office.
"We picked up a tail," Elias said quietly.
Altha glanced in her side mirror. "How long?"
"Since we left the parking lot." Elias kept his voice calm, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Same vehicle that was watching us during the meeting."
The evidence case sat between them on the bench seat, filled with witness statements, financial records, and Lionel's copied documents. Everything they needed to prove Preston's family had stolen the hotel through fraud.
The SUV moved closer as they approached a red light at Peachtree and Auburn. Elias slowed, checking his mirrors carefully. Normal traffic filled the intersection, commuters heading home. Nothing suspicious except the black vehicle now directly behind them. The light turned red. Elias stopped. The SUV's engine revved.
"Brace yourself," Elias said sharply.
The impact slammed into their rear bumper with crushing force. The truck lurched forward into the intersection as metal crumpled and glass shattered. Elias fought to keep the wheels steady while cars honked and swerved around them.
"Hold on!" Elias shouted. He floored the accelerator, shooting through the red light as the SUV rammed them again. This time, the collision spun them sideways, tires screaming against wet asphalt. The evidence case flew against the door and cracked open, spilling papers across the floorboard.
"They're trying to wreck us," Altha said, her voice steady despite the chaos.
The SUV pulled alongside them, its passenger window rolling down. Elias saw the barrel of something dark pointing toward their truck.
"Get down!" he yelled, yanking the wheel hard right.
They careened around a city bus, missing its rear bumper by inches. The SUV followed, weaving through traffic with reckless speed. Horns blared, pedestrians scattered on sidewalks.
"Take Edgewood," Altha said calmly, pointing ahead. "Then cut through the old warehouse district. I know those streets from my delivery runs back in the 80s."
Elias spun the wheel left onto Edgewood Avenue. The truck's damaged rear end fishtailed on the wet pavement, but his military training kicked in. He corrected the slide and accelerated past construction barriers and orange cones. The SUV stayed close, ramming their bumper again as they passed a hotel loading dock. Workers dove for cover as both vehicles roared past. Sparks flying from grinding metal.
"Right at the next block," Altha directed. "Then straight through the alley behind the old cotton warehouses."
Elias took the turn at dangerous speed. The truck tilted on two wheels before slamming back down. Behind them, the SUV's driver tried to match the maneuver, but clipped a parked delivery truck, spinning into a row of metal trash bins with a thunderous crash.
Elias didn't slow down until they reached the federal building's underground garage. He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. Both of them sat breathing hard while steam rose from the crumpled hood. Papers from the evidence case lay scattered across the floorboard. Witness statements mixed with financial records and Lionel's copied documents. The case itself had a long crack down one side.
Altha began gathering the papers with steady hands. Her cream shawl was torn and her face was pale, but her voice remained calm. "Well," she said, looking at Elias as she smoothed out a wrinkled bank statement. "Now we know Preston is frightened."
Celeste Harrow's private office felt like a war room. Papers covered every surface of the mahogany desk. Financial records spread across the conference table. Witness statements hung from a corkboard beside black-and-white photographs of the original boarding house.
Celeste stood behind her desk, reading glasses perched on her nose as she studied Lionel's copied bank statements. Her gray suit was wrinkled from the long day, but her focus remained sharp. "This pattern is clear," she said, tapping the documents with her pen. "Elder intimidation through legal threats, charity theft disguised as operational expenses, development pressure using falsified zoning violations."
Altha sat in the leather chair across from the desk, her torn cream shawl draped over her shoulders. Despite the car chase, her posture remained dignified. Elias stood beside the window, watching the street below for any sign of the black SUV. Miriam perched on the edge of a chair near the conference table. She had arrived 20 minutes earlier, still wearing her hotel uniform and looking nervous about being away from work.
"The money trail alone proves fraud," Celeste continued, spreading three bank statements side-by-side. "Preston diverted charity funds meant for emergency housing into his personal development account, $2 million over 5 years."
"That money was supposed to help families in crisis," Altha said quietly. "Veterans, elderly folks with nowhere else to go, just like the original boarding house."