Chapter 3 - The Escape
They tried to stand their ground in the doorway, but they were soft people who bought their power with paper and signatures.
When I walked toward them carrying eighty-five pounds of my unconscious daughter, the cold, murderous promise in my eyes made Derek stumble backward into the hallway wall. Vivian tried to reach out and grab Emily’s arm, but I shifted my shoulder, slamming into her with enough force to knock her off balance into a hall table.
“You’re making a catastrophic mistake, Mercer!” a deep, commanding voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs.
Grant Waverly was standing in the foyer. He was dressed in a dark wool suit, holding a landline telephone receiver in his hand. He looked like the kind of man who was used to standing at the end of a boardroom table while other men nodded.
“The police are already on their way, Thomas,” Grant said, his tone icy and controlled, though a vein throbbed violently along his temple. “You smashed my gate. You assaulted my family. If you carry my daughter-in-law out that door, you will be facing federal kidnapping charges before the sun comes up.”
I descended the stairs slowly, my boots clicking firmly against the marble treads. Every ounce of my concentration was focused on the faint, rhythmic rise and fall of Emily’s chest against my collarbone.
“She’s dying, Grant,” I said, stopping at the base of the stairs, three feet from him.
“She is undergoing private medical treatment!” Grant snapped, taking a step toward me. “Her records are protected! Dr. Miller is a licensed practitioner!”
“Look at her,” I said, stepping closer so he had to look down at Emily’s gray, slack face. “Look at your son’s work.”
Grant glanced down at Emily for a fraction of a second. A tiny, imperceptible flicker of doubt crossed his heavy features, but it was instantly swallowed by his cold, stubborn arrogance.
“This family’s private business stays inside this house,” Grant whispered, leaning in, his voice dropping into a menacing hiss. “You take one more step, and I will ensure you spend the rest of your natural life in a state penitentiary.”
I didn't answer him.
I walked past him, my elbow catching him across the chest, forcing him to step aside.
I kicked open the heavy front door, stepping back out into the torrential freezing rain. The cold wind slammed into us like a physical wall, but I pulled my denim coat tighter around Emily, shielding her face with my neck as I carried her down the slick stone steps toward my idling Ford F-150.
Behind me, Derek came rushing out onto the porch. “Thomas! Stop! You can’t take her!”
I opened the passenger door of the truck with my left hand, carefully sliding Emily onto the bench seat. I pulled the seatbelt across her waist, buckling it tightly, before tucking an old wool blanket from behind the seat around her legs and shoulders.
She didn't open her eyes. Her skin was damp from the rain, her lips taking on a terrifying purple tint.
I slammed the passenger door shut, rounded the front of the truck, and climbed into the driver’s seat.
As I pulled the gear lever into reverse, Grant Waverly ran up to the driver’s side window, pounding his heavy gold signet ring against the glass.
“I will destroy you, Mercer!” he roared through the glass, his face twisted in pure rage. “You hear me? I will destroy everything you have!”
I didn't look at him.
I hit the gas pedal, spinning the truck around on the wet driveway, and launched the F-150 through the ruined remnants of their twenty-thousand-dollar iron gate, tearing out onto the dark, rain-slicked country highway.
The time on the truck’s dashboard read 4:12 A.M.
The nearest regional trauma hospital was in Cedar Falls, twenty-two miles away through a blinding autumn storm.
I pressed my foot down, the truck’s engine screaming as we hit seventy miles an hour down the two-lane road. With my right hand, I reached across the seat, holding Emily’s freezing, limp fingers in my palm.
“Stay with me, Em,” I whispered into the dark cab, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes and running down into my graying beard. “Just stay with me a little longer. Dad’s got you.”
Three miles down the highway, red and blue lights pierced through the thick wall of rain behind us.
May you like
I looked in my rearview mirror.
Four county sheriff cruisers were closing in fast, their sirens wailing through the dark night, forming an aggressive, flashing convoy directly behind my rear bumper.
