Chapter 14 - The Final Trap
Absolute darkness swallowed the modern kitchen and hallway, leaving Mark and Sarah standing frozen in the oppressive gloom. The only illumination came from the faint, dying glow of Mark’s smartphone screen, casting long, distorted shadows across the gray cabinets.
"Stay behind me," Mark whispered fiercely, stepping in front of Sarah as the heavy boots continued their slow, rhythmic ascent up the basement stairs.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The basement door, which Detective Vance had pried open earlier, groaned as it was pushed wider. A tall silhouette stepped out of the stairwell, framed faintly by the dim gray light filtering through the rain-soaked windows of the laundry room.
"Who's there?" Mark shouted, his voice echoing off the quartz countertops. "Identify yourself right now or I swear to God—"
"Relax, Mr. Evans," a calm, smooth voice replied from the shadows.
A click echoed in the hallway, and the overhead recessed lights suddenly flared back to life, humming softly.
Standing in the doorway was Detective Vance.
Except Vance wasn't holding his notepad anymore. In his right hand, he held a sleek, silenced semi-automatic pistol, pointed squarely at Mark’s chest.
Sarah gasped, stumbling backward against the kitchen island, her hands flying to her mouth.
"Detective Vance?" Mark stammered, his mind struggling to connect the man who had supposedly protected him with the weapon now aimed at his heart. "What are you doing? Are you insane?"
Vance smiled—a cold, calculated expression that completely erased the warm, grandfatherly demeanor he had worn all morning.
May you like
"I'm just tying up loose ends, Mark," Vance said smoothly, taking a slow step into the kitchen. "Victoria was brilliant, but she got sloppy. She grew attached to the child, sh
[... đã cắt bớt, xem bản đầy đủ trong tệp trên máy ...]
