Chapter 7 - The Lethal Injection
"Get away from her right now!" I screamed, lunging across the dark hospital room.
Dad jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the deadly syringe onto the linoleum floor.
"You should be locked in a jail cell," he growled, recovering his composure instantly.
Clara was completely unconscious, her chest rising and falling weakly beneath the thin hospital blanket.
"I know everything about the offshore accounts and the fake death," I told him, standing firmly between him and the bed.
Dad let out a dark, menacing chuckle that made my stomach turn.
"It does not matter what you know, because nobody is going to believe a fugitive," he sneered.
He took a threatening step forward, raising the sharp needle toward my face.
"Move out of the way, Sarah, or I will use this on you instead," he threatened coldly.
I grabbed a heavy metal IV pole and swung it wildly at his head.
He ducked under the swing and tackled me violently to the hard floor.
The breath left my lungs as his heavy hands pinned my shoulders down.
"You ruined a perfectly good plan by coming home for Christmas," Dad hissed, raising the syringe.
I kicked my legs furiously, managing to strike him hard in the knee.
He grunted in pain but did not loosen his crushing grip on my shoulders.
Suddenly, the locked hospital door was kicked entirely off its hinges with a deafening crash.
Officer Davis rushed into the room with his service weapon drawn and aimed directly at my father.
"Drop the needle and get your hands on your head!" Davis roared with absolute authority.
Dad froze, realizing he was completely outmatched by the armed officer.
He slowly raised his hands and let the syringe roll harmlessly across the floor.
I scrambled to my feet and rushed to Clara's side to ensure she was still breathing.
Davis kicked the syringe away and pulled out his handcuffs to secure my father.
"You are going to rot in a federal cell for the rest of your miserable life," Davis told him.
Before Davis could snap the cuffs shut, a gunshot rang out in the small room.
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Davis cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor, clutching a bleeding wound on his shoulder.
Detective Miller stepped through the broken doorway, holding a smoking pistol with a sinister smile.
