Chapter 8 - Flashing Red and Blue
The harsh glare of red and blue emergency lights swept across the tops of the boxwood hedges, painting the dark garden in a surreal, flashing strobe. Heavy footsteps crunched rapidly along the gravel path outside the maze, followed by authoritative shouts demanding everyone to stay where they were.
"Police! Stay where you are!" a male voice bellowed.
Clara slowly released her grip on Martha’s arm and rose to her feet, wiping dirt and sweat from her forehead. Her off-white dress was ruined, stained with grass, blood, and soot. Evelyn was weeping softly in the bushes, struggling to pull the sharp rose thorns from her arms.
Two uniformed officers burst into the alcove, their heavy tactical flashlights cutting through the gloom. One officer aimed his light directly at Martha, who remained lying on the ground, wearing a serene, almost theatrical expression of distress.
"Don't move!" the lead officer commanded, rushing forward to secure the scene. He looked at Martha, then up at Clara, whose hands were covered in dirt and blood. "Ma'am, step away from her. Put your hands where we can see them."
"I am the victim here," Martha called out instantly, her voice instantly shifting into a fragile, trembling tone that completely belied her viciousness moments before. "This girl... she attacked me and my friend. She's unstable."
"Officer, she's lying!" Clara protested, stepping forward, holding up her burned and bleeding hands. "She admitted to murder. The body of my real mother is buried right here under these roses!"
The officer frowned, glancing between Martha and Clara. He signaled for backup over his shoulder. "Get medical personnel in here for the woman in the bushes. And someone secure the perimeter. We need a forensics team out here immediately."
Martha offered a weak, trembling smile to the officer as he helped her up. "She's delusional, Officer. She lost her mind when we tried to take away her keys. She set fire to family property tonight."
Clara watched in absolute horror as the officers handcuffed Martha not as a criminal, but seemingly out of protocol while treating her with cautious deference. The institutional privilege that Martha had weaponized for decades was already wrapping around her like armor.
"You won't get away with this," Clara whispered, her voice trembling with frustration.
May you like
Martha paused as she was led past Clara toward the exit, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. "My lawyer owns the local precinct, Clara. By sunrise, you'll be the one behind bars."
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