Chapter 4 - The Escape
Luke’s grip on my shoulder was like a vise, his fingers digging painfully into my collarbone.
Sarah screamed, stumbling backward toward the edge of the quarry pit.
"Give me the recorder, Sarah," Luke demanded, his voice dangerously calm.
"No!" she shrieked, clutching the device to her chest.
Luke lunged toward her, releasing me for just a fraction of a second.
It was all the time I needed.
I slammed my elbow into his ribs with every ounce of strength I possessed.
He grunted in pain, stumbling sideways.
"Run, Sarah!" I screamed, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the rusted machinery.
We sprinted through the darkness, the uneven gravel tearing at my shoes.
I could hear Luke’s heavy footsteps behind us, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
"He's going to kill us!" Sarah sobbed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Not today," I growled, spotting a narrow gap between two massive steel storage tanks.
I shoved Sarah into the crevice and squeezed in right behind her.
The space was suffocatingly tight, smelling of rust and old oil.
We held our breath as Luke’s footsteps slowed, crunching on the gravel just inches from our hiding spot.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he taunted in a sickeningly sweet sing-song voice.
My heart hammered so loudly I was certain he could hear it.
He paced back and forth, the beam of a flashlight sweeping across the rusted metal mere inches from my face.
"You can't hide forever," he whispered.
Suddenly, the beam of light vanished, and the crunching footsteps faded away.
We waited in terrified silence for what felt like hours, not daring to move a muscle.
Finally, when the silence stretched on unbroken, I carefully peaked out from between the tanks.
The quarry was empty. He was gone.
I helped Sarah out of the crevice, both of us shaking uncontrollably.
"We need to get to the police station," I said, my voice trembling but resolute. "We have the recording. We have him."
We scrambled up the gravel embankment, desperate to reach the main road and flag down a passing car.
As we crested the hill, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was a text message from Detective Reynolds.
Mrs. Davis, where are you? We need you back at the hospital immediately.
I dialed her number, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone.
"Detective, I have proof," I blurted out as soon as she answered. "I have Sarah Mitchell, and I have a recording of Luke attacking her son."
There was a long, chilling pause on the other end of the line.
"Mrs. Davis," Reynolds finally said, her voice completely devoid of its former sympathy. "I strongly advise you to return to the hospital and surrender yourself."
"Surrender myself? For what?"
"For the attempted murder of your daughter, Addie."
The world tilted sharply on its axis.
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"What are you talking about?" I screamed.
"We found the security footage from your living room, Mrs. Davis," Reynolds stated coldly. "It clearly shows you smothering Addie with a pillow before calling 911."
