Chapter 4 - The Briefcase
The wooden door splintered into a hundred pieces as a heavy boot kicked it off its hinges.
Daniel stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the moonlight, holding a heavy steel crowbar.
"You really thought a piece of plastic was my only backup plan, Rachel?" he mocked.
Emily grabbed an iron poker from the fireplace and stood firmly between me and my abusive husband.
"If you take one more step, I will cave your skull in," Emily threatened fiercely.
Daniel laughed, a cold, empty sound that echoed in the small cabin.
He swung the crowbar with terrifying speed, striking the iron poker and knocking it out of Emily's hands.
The force of the blow sent Emily crashing backward into a wooden bookshelf.
She slumped to the floor, holding her bleeding head, completely dazed.
"No!" I screamed, trying to force my broken body off the sofa to help her.
Daniel walked slowly toward me, dragging the crowbar across the wooden floorboards.
"You killed my son by fighting me, Rachel," he whispered, his eyes filled with absolute madness.
"Now I am going to make sure your sister joins him."
He raised the steel bar high above his head, aiming directly at Emily's skull.
I didn't think about my damaged spine or my bruised ribs.
I threw myself off the sofa, tackling Daniel around his knees with every ounce of strength I had left.
He lost his balance and crashed hard to the floor, dropping the crowbar near the fireplace.
"Emily, run!" I shrieked, pinning Daniel's legs down with my body weight.
Emily scrambled to her feet, completely ignoring her bleeding forehead.
She didn't run out the door; she grabbed the heavy crowbar instead.
She swung it down with brutal precision, striking Daniel squarely across his right kneecap.
A sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by Daniel's agonizing scream.
He writhed on the floor, clutching his shattered knee in absolute agony.
"Come on, Rachel!" Emily grabbed my arm and hoisted me up.
We limped past Daniel, leaving him screaming in the dark cabin.
As we reached the door, Emily suddenly stopped and picked up a black leather briefcase Daniel had dropped on the porch.
"What is that?" I asked, panting heavily as we ran to her car.
"I don't know, but he never goes anywhere without it," Emily said, throwing it into the backseat.
We drove away into the night, leaving the monster crippled in the woods.
When the sun finally began to rise, we pulled into a quiet motel parking lot.
Emily popped the locks on the briefcase with a screwdriver she kept in her glovebox.
I expected to find financial documents or legal papers.
Instead, I found three separate death certificates.
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They all belonged to young women who had supposedly died from accidental falls.
And listed as the grieving husband on every single one of them was Daniel.
