PART 18
The walk back to the grocery store felt like a marathon in a nightmare.
My muscles burned,
my lungs gasped for air,
and the rain felt like needles on my skin.
When I finally broke through the tree line into the parking lot,
my heart stopped.
A police cruiser was parked near my car,
its red and blue lights flashing silently,
casting eerie reflections on the wet asphalt.
Detective Vance was standing by my driver’s side window,
holding a crowbar.
He was about to smash the glass.
Noah was inside.
"Hey!"
I screamed,
running out into the open,
the ledger held high in my hand.
"Vance! Look over here!"
He spun around,
the crowbar swinging in his hand,
a vicious smile growing across his face.
"Emma,"
he called out over the sound of the rain.
"You saved me the trouble of breaking your window."
"Give me the book."
"I have it,"
I panted,
stopping twenty feet away,
holding it up so he could see the leather binding.
"But if you touch my son,
I swear to God I will throw it into the storm drain right now."
I pointed to the wide iron grate at my feet,
where rushing rain water was roaring down into the sewer.
He froze,
measuring the distance between us.
"You think you’re smart, Emma?"
he sneered,
taking a slow step forward.
"My father controls this town."
"You have nowhere to run."
"No,"
I whispered,
wiping the water from my eyes,
"but you forgot one thing."
"What’s that?"
"I’m not the one who called for backup."
Suddenly,
bright high beams flooded the parking lot from the entrance,
blinding both of us.
Three black vans screeched to a halt,
surrounding the police cruiser.
The doors flew open,
and men in tactical gear with FBI jackets poured out,
weapons raised.
"Federal Agents! Drop your weapon! Hands in the air!"
Sarah Mitchell stepped out from the lead van,
holding a rifle,
her face set in stone.
May you like
She hadn't been silenced.
She had gone to the feds.
