CHAPTER 8: SHADOWS ON THE GLASS
By 11:30 PM, the Vance household had gone dark. Up in Lily's bedroom, Mark sat quietly beside his daughter's bed. He had swapped her evening medication hours earlier with pure sugar water and multivitamins. For the first time in weeks, Lily was sleeping without restless groans or night sweats.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I’m going to bring the sun back, baby," he whispered.
Mark crept into the attic, where a small window provided a direct, unobstructed view of the rear gate. He held a receiver connected to the hidden infrared camera.
Downstairs, a floorboard creaked. Clara slipped out of her bedroom wearing a dark coat and rubber gloves. She glided through the kitchen, checking her watch, and exited through the patio glass door into the chilly autumn fog.
Mark’s earpiece crackled. It was Detective Ramirez from the County Prosecutor’s Special Operations Unit, stationed three blocks away. *"We have eyes on a gray commercial van entering your sector, Mr. Vance. Confirming intercept parameters."*
*"Wait until the exchange is complete,"* Mark whispered into his mic. *"I need the toxin in her hands."*
At precisely 11:58 PM, the gray van cut its headlights and coasted to a halt by the cedar fence. The side door slid open with a faint hiss. A tall, gaunt figure in a heavy winter parka stepped out into the damp alley.
Mark adjusted the lens of his camera, zooming in through the gloom. The moonlight caught the man's sharp profile. It was unmistakably Marcus Vance.
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In his gloved hand, Marcus held a padded metallic case containing six amber ampoules.
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