Chapter 8 - The Cornered Rat
Grant was permanently tying up loose ends to ensure his empire survived the impending fallout.
Dr. Thorne's death proved that my husband was willing to cross the line from corporate fraud into outright murder.
"You need to move immediately, Mrs. Whitmore," Agent Carter urged through the phone.
"If Grant is cleaning house, he will definitely use the GPS tracker in your phone to find you."
I gasped, realizing my mistake just as I heard the distinct squeal of heavy tires pulling into the motel parking lot.
I peeked through the dusty blinds and saw three familiar black SUVs boxing in every available exit.
Silas and a dozen armed men poured out of the vehicles, moving with terrifying military precision toward my room.
"They are here," I whispered in panic, grabbing my laptop and scooping Eli up into my arms.
"Leave the phone behind and get to the roof," Agent Carter commanded before I smashed the device against the floor.
I kicked open the small bathroom window, shoving the laptop into a backpack before boosting Eli through the opening.
We scrambled out into the damp alleyway just as the front door of our motel room was kicked completely open.
I carried Eli up a rusted fire escape ladder, my muscles screaming in protest as we reached the flat, tar-covered roof.
I could hear Silas shouting orders below, commanding his men to sweep the perimeter and block the surrounding streets.
We were trapped on a three-story building with absolutely nowhere left to run.
I hid Eli behind a large commercial air conditioning unit, pressing my finger to my lips to enforce absolute silence.
The heavy metal access door on the roof creaked open, and a figure stepped out into the evening shadows.
It wasn't Silas or one of his hired thugs.
It was Grant, holding a small medical syringe filled with a cloudy, menacing liquid.
"You really made this difficult, Mara," he sighed, walking slowly toward our hiding spot as if taking a casual stroll.
"The judge signed the order, which means I can legally have you sedated and committed for your own safety."
He tapped the syringe, the needle glinting dangerously in the fading twilight.
"Once you are locked away in a private ward, Rachel and I will raise Eli exactly how we see fit," he sneered.
He lunged around the air conditioning unit, grabbing my wrist with crushing force and raising the needle toward my neck.
I screamed, fighting back with every ounce of strength I had, but his grip was like an iron vice.
Just as the needle brushed against my skin, a blinding white spotlight suddenly illuminated the entire rooftop.
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"Drop the weapon and step away from the woman, Mr. Whitmore," a booming voice echoed from the sky.
A massive federal helicopter hovered just twenty feet above us, the side doors open to reveal heavily armed FBI agents.
