Chapter 8 - Into the Shadows
The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, each heavy thud vibrating through the floorboards of the secure room. Sarah Vance pressed her back against the wall beside the door, her weapon raised, her breathing measured and calm.
“Emma,” Sarah whispered without taking her eyes off the narrow crack beneath the door. “If anything happens to me, take my briefcase. The flash drive inside contains copies of every federal document on your father’s shell corporations and Clara Sterling’s murder. Give it to Mara Jenkins.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” I whispered back, my hands trembling as I gripped the heavy wooden desk chair. “We get out together.”
Before Sarah could argue, the door handle began to turn. Slowly, silently, the latch clicked open.
A gloved hand pushed the door inward, followed by the barrel of a suppressed firearm. Without hesitation, Sarah stepped around the frame and fired two precise shots low into the door jamb, catching the intruder off balance.
A muffled shout echoed down the hallway as the intruder stumbled backward, dropping his weapon. “Clear the room! She’s armed!”
“Move, Emma! Now!” Sarah grabbed my arm, yoking me toward the emergency exit at the end of the corridor that led directly into the enclosed staff parking lot.
We burst through the heavy metal fire door just as alarms began to wail across the facility. The cold night air hit my face like ice, carrying the driving rain directly into our eyes. Sarah sprinted toward her rented sedan parked near the back fence, unlocking the doors with a frantic beep of her key fob.
As I dived into the passenger seat, the sound of shattered glass rang out behind us. A bullet pinged off the roof of the car, leaving a jagged crater in the metal.
“Hold on!” Sarah shouted, slamming the gearshift into drive and punching the gas pedal. The tires spun furiously on the wet asphalt before gripping the pavement, launching us forward through the security gate as the metal arm snapped like a twig under our bumper.
We tore out onto the dark country highway, headlights off for the first mile to avoid giving away our position in the rearview mirrors.
“Are you hit?” Sarah asked, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel.
“No,” I panted, clutching my chest where my ribs still ached from the lingering injury. “I’m okay. Where are we going?”
“Not to a safehouse,” Sarah said grimly, her eyes fixed on the winding road ahead illuminated only by intermittent flashes of lightning. “Every state police safehouse is compromised if local law enforcement is working with your father’s associates. We’re going somewhere nobody would ever think to look.”
“Where?”
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“Your family’s old summer cabin by Blackwood Lake,” Sarah replied. “It’s abandoned, completely off the grid, and your father hid his private offshore financial records in a floor safe beneath the master bedroom floorboards. If we want to finish this once and for all, we need the master keys to his entire empire.”
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