Chapter 4 - The Corrupt Badge
The harsh police spotlights pinned me against the rough bark of the oak tree.
I knew that running from uniform officers would instantly destroy my credibility in court.
I slowly stepped out of the shadows, keeping my hands high above my head.
I left the stack of stolen documents hidden securely in the hollow knot of the tree.
Two large deputies rushed forward and threw me forcefully against the hood of their cruiser.
The cold metal handcuffs clamped down hard on my wrists, biting into my skin.
"I am a state prosecutor," I warned them firmly as they patted me down.
"You are arresting the wrong person, and I have evidence of elder abuse on this property."
The older deputy, a man with a thick gray mustache and a nameplate that read Miller, just chuckled.
"Your brother warned us you might try to pull rank and make up crazy stories," Miller said.
Daniel walked calmly down the driveway, looking like the picture of a concerned family member.
He had already managed to put a large bandage on his chin where I had struck him.
"Thank you so much, Sheriff Miller," Daniel said in a dramatic, shaky voice.
"She has been estranged from the family for years and just snapped when she saw my mother's failing health."
"We are taking her to the county lockup for psychiatric evaluation and assault," the sheriff replied, patting Daniel's shoulder warmly.
I realized with sickening clarity that the local police force was completely in Daniel's pocket.
They shoved me into the back of the cramped, smelling squad car.
Through the reinforced window, I saw Vanessa walking out the front door.
She was aggressively dragging my frail mother by the arm.
Mom was practically sleepwalking, clearly heavily sedated against her will.
They pushed her into the backseat of Daniel’s black SUV.
"Stop!" I screamed, kicking violently at the window of the police cruiser.
"They are kidnapping her, you idiots!"
Sheriff Miller ignored my screams, got into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.
Daniel’s SUV peeled out of the driveway and sped away into the dark night.
I was trapped in a moving cage while my mother was being taken to an unknown nightmare.
I shifted my wrists uncomfortably in the tight handcuffs.
That was when my fingers brushed against the hidden zipper pocket of my jacket.
I smiled grimly in the dark backseat.
The sheriff had forgotten to check for my secondary, state-issued mobile device.
I managed to contort my bound hands just enough to unzip the pocket and press the emergency distress button.
The screen flashed red, indicating that my elite state strike force had just received my exact GPS coordinates.
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But as the police cruiser turned onto the main highway, a deafening explosion rocked the street.
A massive ball of fire erupted from the exact spot where Daniel’s SUV had just been driving.
