Chapter 7 - A Familiar Face
Sheriff Miller's boots crunched steadily on the gravel driveway as he closed the distance between his patrol SUV and the backyard patio. His face remained entirely unreadable, devoid of the shock or horror that any normal person would feel upon seeing a man who had been officially declared dead for two decades standing alive in broad daylight. Instead, his eyes were sharp, calculating, and fixed squarely on the open black trash bag resting by Clara's feet.
"Sheriff Miller," Elena stammered, taking an involuntary step forward, her light blue t-shirt damp with sweat. "Thank God. You have to help us. David is... he's alive. Our parents kept him locked in the cellar all these years."
Miller didn't look at Elena. His gaze shifted slowly to David, who was shrinking back slightly against the beige siding of the house, his chest heaving with shallow, rapid breaths.
"I know, Elena," Miller said smoothly, his hand resting casually, yet purposefully, right above his holstered sidearm. "Your father and I had a long conversation about this twenty years ago. It was for the greater good of the community. And for the safety of your family."
Clara stepped in front of Elena, her dark reddish-brown hair catching the harsh afternoon light as she squared her shoulders. She gripped the black trash bag tighter, her knuckles straining. "The greater good? You helped them bury a living human being underground? You're a law enforcement officer, Miller. This is kidnapping. This is torture."
"It's containment, Clara," Miller corrected, his tone chillingly administrative, as if he were discussing a zoning dispute rather than twenty years of imprisonment. "Your brother isn't entirely human anymore. Or did you not read the medical journals at the bottom of that bag yet?"
Elena froze, her blood running cold. She slowly turned her head to look at Clara, her voice a hollow whisper. "What is he talking about, Clara? What else is in that bag?"
Clara swallowed hard, her eyes locked onto the sheriff. "I didn't get to the bottom of the bag, Elena. I just grabbed the first things I saw when I heard footsteps coming up from the basement stairs."
Miller took another slow step forward, narrowing his eyes. "Then do us all a favor and hand me the bag, Clara. Step away from your brother, and let us handle this quietly, just like we handled your parents' estate."
David suddenly lunged forward with surprising, jagged speed, grabbing Clara's arm and pointing a trembling finger straight at the sheriff's chest.
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"Don't give it to him!" David screamed, his voice cracking with desperate rage. "He's the one who brought the first injections!"
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