Chapter 9 - The Second Shot
The sharp crack of a rifle shot echoed across the cliffside, shattering the side mirror of the vintage sports car in a shower of glittering glass shards. Julian instinctively threw Clara down behind the heavy metal body of the sedan, drawing a heavy, old-fashioned revolver from his jacket with practiced speed.
“Get down!” Julian roared, returning fire toward the dark ridge above the road where the muzzle flash had briefly illuminated the silhouette of a lone shooter.
Catherine didn't panic; she dropped to one knee beside the front tire of the car, her expression turning into a mask of cold fury. “It’s Eleanor’s backup. She must have slipped past the precinct custody desk faster than we calculated.”
Clara pressed her face against the rough gravel, her hands clamped over her ears to block out the terrifying concussive sound of the gunfire. Her green photograph album lay open a few feet away, the pages fluttering wildly in the wind generated by the passing bullets. Through the blur of dust and flying debris, she saw a page she had never seen before—a photograph of Eleanor standing outside the burning mansion, smiling calmly while holding an empty fuel can.
“She did it,” Clara choked out, the final piece of the devastating puzzle locking violently into place in her mind. “Eleanor set the fire herself.”
“She burned the entire estate to erase the inheritance titles, and she took you to hide her tracks,” Julian shouted over another volley of shots pinging off the car door. He grabbed Clara by the collar of her floral dress and dragged her toward the low stone wall at the edge of the cliff. “Move! We have to get down the maintenance stairs before they flank us!”
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Catherine covered their retreat, firing three precise shots up at the ridge before scrambling after them into the dark, yawning stairwell carved into the side of the cliff.
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