MOORE ESTATE
Malcolm paced the living room, muttering to himself in frustration. “I can’t believe how easily I fell into Miguel’s trap. Of course he never intended to arrest me—he just wanted to humiliate me. Wanted me plastered all over the news, looking like a lunatic, so he could reduce me to nothing. Not only am I now a suspected criminal but a lunatic.”
He ran a hand through his greying hair, eyes wild with disbelief. The television was muted, but the image on the screen showed stills from the warehouse incident—him yelling, arms flailing, Benjamin trying to hold him back. The media had already coined it The Moore Meltdown.
He glanced at the clock. Nearly two hours since he had called her. “Where the hell is Lisa?” he muttered, kicking the edge of the center table. “I told her to
