Chapter 9 - Trapped in the Pines
The high beams blared through the falling rain, turning the porch into an exposed stage. Sarah shielded her eyes, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Inside! Now!" Clara shoved Sarah through the cabin door, slamming the heavy wooden deadbolt into place just as the sound of slamming car doors echoed from the driveway.
Sarah rushed to the window, peering through the worn curtains. Two men stepped out of the SUV, their raincoats glistening under the headlights. It wasn't the police. It was Arthur Vance’s personal security team.
"How did they find us?" Sarah panicked, staring at her phone.
"The phone's GPS," Clara swore under her breath, rushing to the kitchen and grabbing a heavy iron fire poker. "They probably had a tracker pinging your device the moment you turned it back on!"
Sarah looked down at the screen. Backup: 92%.
"Three more minutes," Sarah whispered frantically. "Just three more minutes and it's sent to the cloud and the attorney general's tip line."
A heavy thud shook the front door. The wood splintered around the frame.
"Sarah!" Arthur Vance's voice boomed through the storm outside. "Open the door! You're violating a court order! Make this easy on yourself, and nobody gets hurt!"
"Go to hell, Arthur!" Clara screamed back, standing in front of the door with the poker raised. "I know what Evelyn did to my son, and you helped her cover it up!"
Another violent crash rattled the hinges. The wood began to crack down the center.
"Sarah, the back window," Clara ordered quietly, without turning around. "Go into the woods. Follow the stream down to the highway. Catch a truck, get to the city."
"I'm not leaving you here alone," Sarah said, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"You have the evidence! If they take that phone, Lily is lost forever!" Clara shoved Sarah toward the narrow bedroom at the rear of the cabin. "Go! Run!"
A loud chime pinged from Sarah's phone: Upload 100% Complete.
At that exact second, the front door gave way with an explosive snap of wood. Men surged into the living room. Clara swung the fire poker with a feral scream. A gunshot cracked through the small house, deafening and terrible.
Sarah screamed as Clara fell back against the sofa, clutching her bleeding shoulder.
Through the splintered entryway stepped Arthur Vance, his face bathed in cold shadow, a silver revolver smoking in his right hand.
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"Hand over the phone, Sarah," Arthur said calmly, stepping over the threshold. "Or you won't live to see the trial."
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