Chapter 6 - The Silent Witness
I froze, turning my head slowly toward the back of the garage.
Standing in the shadows near the spare tires was seven-year-old Isabella.
She was wearing a dirty pink raincoat, and her eyes were fiercely locked on the doctor.
Doc lowered the shotgun slightly, completely confused by the sudden appearance of the child.
"Isabella?" I whispered in shock.
"How did you get here?"
Isabella pointed to the trunk of Vincent's black sports car.
She had hidden herself inside before Vincent ever went to the motel.
The little girl who hadn't spoken in eleven months walked bravely toward the armed man.
"My daddy will kill you," Isabella said, her voice crystal clear and perfectly steady.
Doc laughed nervously, adjusting his grip on the weapon.
"Your daddy is bleeding out on my table, sweetheart," Doc sneered.
Vincent suddenly groaned from the medical table, his eyes fluttering open.
Despite the heavy sedatives, the sound of his daughter's voice had pulled him back to consciousness.
Vincent didn't say a word.
He simply reached down, grabbed a surgical scalpel from the tray, and threw it with lethal precision.
The blade buried itself deep into Doc's shoulder.
The old man screamed, dropping the shotgun onto the concrete floor.
I dove forward, kicking the weapon away and grabbing it before Doc could recover.
"Bind his hands and feet," Vincent ordered weakly, sitting up on the table.
I used heavy zip-ties from the tool bench to secure the bleeding doctor to a steel pipe.
Isabella ran to her father, wrapping her arms around his neck as tears streamed down her face.
"You talked, Bella," Vincent whispered, kissing the top of her head.
"I'm sorry I was scared, Daddy," she cried softly.
"Dominic told me if I ever said what I saw that night, he would hurt you."
Vincent's eyes hardened with a terrifying, cold resolve.
"He is never going to hurt anyone ever again," Vincent promised.
I gathered the children and helped Vincent stand up.
We needed to get to the FBI headquarters downtown to hand over the USB drive.
We loaded into the sports car and sped out of the garage, leaving Doc tied in the dark.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Chicago skyline.
We were only three blocks away from the federal building when the engine suddenly died.
The car's digital dashboard flashed red with a system override warning.
Dominic's hackers had completely disabled our vehicle remotely.
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We were sitting ducks in the middle of an empty intersection.
A massive armored truck turned the corner and aggressively rammed our car, flipping us completely over.
