Chapter 6 - The Trap
I frantically searched the entire destroyed house again, calling out my father's name in sheer, unadulterated panic.
He had been standing absolutely right behind me just two incredibly short, fleeting minutes ago.
I ran aggressively outside to the driveway, but his truck was still parked exactly where we had just left it.
There was absolutely no sign of a physical struggle in the front yard or the completely quiet suburban street.
Daniel must have highly trained men waiting in absolute ambush inside the house to violently grab him.
They brilliantly took my father completely hostage right under my nose to force my absolute, unquestioning compliance.
I looked deeply down at the map in my trembling hand, the dark red circle glaring fiercely at me like a physical threat.
I had exactly forty-five terrifying minutes left to quickly reach the abandoned docks on the cold waterfront.
I deeply knew it was a highly deadly trap, but I simply had absolutely no other choice to successfully save my family.
I ran quickly down to my father's basement and expertly opened his highly hidden, heavily reinforced floor safe.
I grabbed a thick tactical vest, two fully loaded spare magazines, and a highly sharpened, heavy hunting knife.
I strapped the incredibly cold steel blade tightly to my thigh and covered it completely with a long, dark trench coat.
I quickly stole my father's spare car keys and aggressively sped straight toward the deeply industrial, highly dangerous harbor.
The sprawling docks were completely and utterly deserted, heavily shrouded in a thick, freezing, highly dense gray fog.
I safely parked a few dark blocks away from the marked warehouse and approached highly cautiously on foot.
I expertly used the dark shadows of the massive shipping containers to completely and entirely hide my silent approach.
I slipped quietly through a highly rusted side door of the massive, incredibly echoing metal building.
The dark interior smelled incredibly strongly of stagnant salt water and deeply rotting, highly decayed wood.
I crept incredibly quietly along the upper metal catwalk, silently looking deeply down at the massive factory floor.
My father was tied incredibly securely to a heavy metal chair directly in the absolute center of the dark room.
He was bleeding heavily from a deep, violent cut above his left eyebrow, but he looked fully and completely conscious.
I fully prepared to climb safely down the rusty metal ladder to aggressively launch a massive surprise attack.
Suddenly, a completely cold, incredibly hard metal barrel pressed firmly and highly aggressively against the back of my neck.
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"Drop the sharp knife, Claire," a deeply familiar, highly arrogant male voice whispered very softly into my ear.
I turned my head very slightly and locked eyes heavily with Detective Miller, the highly corrupt cop who wrongly arrested me.
