Chapter 5 - The Dirty Badge
I stared down the black barrel of Detective Harris’s suppressed pistol in absolute horror.
The man I thought was my only hope for justice was actually working for my murderous husband.
“Evelyn sends her regards, Mrs. Mercer,” Harris said with a cruel, mocking smirk.
“She pays a lot better than the local police department ever could.”
He opened the heavy door of his SUV and stepped out into the dimly lit parking garage.
“Get out of the wheelchair and get into the back of my truck, Claire,” he ordered coldly.
Sarah stood frozen behind me, her hands gripping the rubber handles of my wheelchair so tightly her knuckles were white.
I knew that if I got into that vehicle, I would be dumped in a river before sunrise.
“Don't do it, Claire,” Sarah whispered furiously under her breath.
Harris cocked the hammer of his weapon, the metallic click echoing loudly in the empty concrete structure.
“I am not asking politely,” the corrupt detective growled, taking a menacing step forward.
Suddenly, Sarah kicked the locking mechanism on the wheelchair and shoved it violently forward.
The heavy metal footrests crashed directly into Harris’s shins, knocking him completely off balance.
He fired a panicked shot, but the suppressed bullet sparked harmlessly against the concrete ceiling above us.
Sarah grabbed my good arm and hauled me out of the chair with incredible, frantic strength.
We sprinted toward her green sedan, diving into the seats just as Harris scrambled back to his feet.
Sarah slammed the keys into the ignition, throwing the car into reverse and stomping on the gas pedal.
The sedan’s tires squealed violently as we narrowly swiped the side of Harris’s armored SUV.
We tore out of the parking garage and sped recklessly onto the dark, rain-slicked highway.
I looked back through the shattered rear window, expecting to see headlights chasing us in the darkness.
But the road behind us was completely empty and silent.
“He is not following us,” I gasped, clutching my throbbing, broken ribs.
“He doesn't have to,” Sarah replied grimly, her eyes glued to the rearview mirror.
“He has the entire police force looking for us by now.”
Sarah drove us to a dilapidated, abandoned motel on the extreme outskirts of the city limits.
We dragged ourselves into a filthy room that smelled faintly of mold and stale cigarette smoke.
“I told Olivia to meet us here if she managed to escape the basement,” Sarah explained, locking the deadbolt.
A soft, frantic knock suddenly echoed against the flimsy wooden door, making us both jump in terror.
Sarah looked through the peephole and quickly unlatched the rusty chain.
Olivia stumbled into the room, her designer clothes torn and her face covered in dark, heavy bruises.
She fell to her knees in front of me, sobbing with absolute, heartbreaking desperation.
“I am so sorry, Claire,” Olivia wept, burying her face in her hands.
“Daniel didn't just plan this tonight, he has been poisoning your prenatal vitamins for six months.”
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She reached into her ruined designer bag and pulled out a small, black leather ledger.
“And I stole the book that proves absolutely every single thing he did.”
