Chapter 8 - The Decoy
My maternal instincts overrode every logical thought in my exhausted brain.
I sprinted toward the lone spotlight, screaming my daughter's name into the cavernous, empty warehouse.
"Sarah, wait, it's a trap!" Detective Reynolds yelled, chasing desperately after me.
I reached the infant car seat and dropped to my knees on the cold, dirty concrete floor.
I frantically ripped the pink blanket away to pull my crying baby into my arms.
But the car seat was completely empty.
Instead of my daughter, a small, continuous loop recording of a baby crying was playing from a cheap Bluetooth speaker.
My blood ran entirely cold as the horrific realization washed over me.
The heavy steel doors of the warehouse suddenly slammed shut behind the detective, locking us inside.
Mark stepped out from the shadows of a rusted catwalk high above us, holding a hunting rifle.
"I knew the police would trace the video call, you predictable fools," he mocked loudly from his perch.
He aimed the heavy rifle directly down at Detective Reynolds.
"Drop your weapon, Detective, or I will put a bullet right through her head," Mark commanded.
The detective slowly raised her hands and placed her service pistol onto the concrete floor.
"You are making a terrible mistake, Mark, there is nowhere left to run," she warned him calmly.
"I don't need to run," he sneered, carefully descending the metal stairs while keeping the rifle aimed at us.
"Diane is wiring the money from international waters as we speak, and this building is wired to blow."
He pulled a small, remote detonator from his pocket and smiled wickedly.
"Where is my actual daughter?" I demanded, standing up and stepping directly into his line of fire.
Mark stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
"She is in the trunk of a car parked at the long-term airport lot," he confessed cruelly.
"By the time anyone finds her, it will be far too late."
A blinding rage eclipsed all my fear, transforming my terror into pure adrenaline.
I did not care if I died, as long as I could take this monster down with me.
I lunged forward, throwing my body directly at the barrel of his hunting rifle.
Mark stumbled backward in shock, his finger instinctively pulling the trigger.
The gunshot echoed deafeningly in the enclosed space, but the bullet grazed past my shoulder.
I tackled him to the ground, violently scratching and punching his face with all my remaining strength.
The remote detonator slipped from his grasp and skittered across the concrete floor.
Detective Reynolds dove for her discarded weapon, scooping it up in a fluid motion.
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"Freeze, or I will shoot!" the detective roared, aiming perfectly at Mark's chest.
Mark violently shoved me off him and lunged desperately for the explosive detonator.
