Chapter 6 - The Caretaker's Courage
The living room was a disaster zone of broken glass, blood, and freezing snow.
Mr. Hayes was sitting up against the stone fireplace, clutching his ribs and breathing heavily.
Peter was leaning against the sofa, holding a bloody rag to the back of his head.
I directed Arthur to sit in the heavy armchair in the corner of the room.
“Keep the gun on him, Mrs. Harrison,” Mr. Hayes grunted, struggling to push himself up from the floor.
“I need to go outside and check the snowmobile.”
“It’s too dangerous, Mr. Hayes,” I warned, keeping my eyes firmly on Arthur.
“Nicole is out there somewhere, and she still has a gun.”
The older man shook his head stubbornly, pulling his thick winter coat tighter around his shoulders.
“If she takes the snowmobile, we have absolutely no way to contact the police until the plows come tomorrow.”
Before anyone could stop him, Mr. Hayes grabbed the fire poker and limped out through the shattered front door.
Peter looked at me, his eyes filled with a deep, sorrowful regret.
“Mom, I am so incredibly sorry,” he whispered, a tear sliding down his bruised cheek.
“I had no idea she was planning any of this.”
“I just thought she was stressed about our finances.”
I softened my gaze, feeling a pang of sympathy for the son I had raised.
He was foolish, yes, but he was not a murderer.
“We will deal with that later, Peter,” I said firmly, keeping my focus sharp.
“Right now, we just need to survive the night.”
Suddenly, the roar of an engine echoed from the driveway outside.
But it wasn't the snowmobile.
It was the heavy, rumbling sound of Peter’s large SUV tearing through the deep snow.
Through the broken window, I saw the headlights flash brightly as the vehicle violently reversed out of the driveway.
Nicole had abandoned her partner in crime, choosing to flee with whatever money she had left.
Arthur sneered, watching the taillights disappear into the blinding white blizzard.
“She won't make it five miles in this storm before she crashes into a ditch,” he muttered bitterly.
Just then, Mr. Hayes walked back through the front door, covered in a fresh layer of snow.
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“She slashed the tires on the snowmobile before she left,” he announced grimly, dropping a bloody knife onto the coffee table.
“We are completely trapped here until morning.”
