Chapter 12 - The Chase Through the Storm
The rain was coming down in blinding, freezing sheets, turning the forest floor behind the bungalow into a slick, treacherous mudslide of dead leaves and exposed pine roots. I ran blindly through the trees, clutching Lily so tightly to my chest that her little arms were pinned around my neck. Every step sent a jolt of agonizing pain shooting up my bruised shoulder, my breath coming in ragged, painful gasps that burned my lungs like fire.
“Mommy, I’m cold,” Lily whimpered against my neck, her teeth chattering audibly over the roar of the wind and rain. She was wearing only her cotton play clothes, instantly soaked through by the downpour.
“I know, baby, I know,” I panted, my boots slipping on a wet rock, sending me sliding down a small muddy embankment before I caught my balance against the rough bark of an oak tree. “We’re almost at the car. Just keep your eyes closed and hold on to me.”
Behind us, echoing through the dark trees over the sound of the storm, came the voice I feared more than death itself.
“Sarah!” Marcus shouted from the edge of the tree line near the house. His voice was carried by the gale, sounding unnaturally close, mocking, and filled with the terrifying energy of a predator hunting prey in a cage. “You can’t run through these woods in the dark! You’ll freeze to death before you hit the highway! Just bring her back!”
I pressed my back against the thick trunk of the oak tree, pulling Lily into my lap to shield her from the rain as I scanned the darkness for Officer Miller’s unmarked cruiser. Through the curtain of falling water, about fifty yards ahead, I spotted the dull reflection of taillights glinting between two evergreen trees—the black Ford Explorer parked off the access road.
“We’re almost there,” I whispered into Lily’s ear. “When I tell you to run, I want you to run straight to the back door of that car and get on the floorboards. Do you understand me?”
Lily nodded silently, her wide, terrified eyes staring past my shoulder toward the darkness where her father’s voice was calling out our names.
I pushed off the tree, sprinting across the final stretch of open ground toward the cruiser. My legs felt like lead, the physical exhaustion of the past three weeks of recovery finally catching up to me, but the primitive, maternal refusal to let my daughter die fueled every grueling stride.
We reached the SUV. I jammed Miller’s keys into the driver’s side lock, twisting with shaking fingers until the heavy locks disengaged with a solid clack. I threw open the rear door, shoving Lily onto the floorboards behind the passenger seat, throwing my heavy wool coat over her to keep her warm and hidden.
“Stay down, Lily!” I commanded, slamming the rear door shut and jumping into the driver’s seat.
I shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. The heavy V8 engine of the police interceptor roared to life instantly, the dashboard lighting up with tactical communications and GPS displays. I threw the gearshift into reverse, ready to floor the accelerator and tear out of the tree line onto the paved access road.
Before my foot could hit the pedal, the driver’s side window exploded inward in a shower of tempered glass.
A heavy, gloved hand reached through the shattered window, grabbing me by the throat and slamming my head back against the headrest with stunning violence.
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Standing on the running board of the SUV, rain pouring off his face like tears, was Marcus. In his right hand, he held his suppressed 9mm pistol, pressing the hot metal barrel directly against my temple.
“Turn the engine off, Sarah,” he whispered, his eyes wide and bloodshot, his breath steaming in the freezing air. “Or I swear to God, I will empty this clip into your head right now and drive her to the airstrip myself.”
