Chapter 9 - The Second Gunman
The metallic click of the firearm shattered the fragile reunion by the riverbank. Evelyn whipped her head around, letting go of Maya’s hands as she scrambled to shield Clara. Out from the deepest shadow of the dilapidated boathouse stepped a figure no one had anticipated—a man in a crisp security uniform, his face obscured by the flickering red and blue lights of the cruisers parked up the hill. It was one of the private guards Richard had hired, but his badge had been ripped off his chest.
"Nobody move an inch!" the guard barked, his voice trembling with a manic, desperate energy. He kept the barrel of the pistol trained squarely on Detective Vance, who slowly raised his hands, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the distance.
"You're making a massive mistake, son," Detective Vance said calmly, his voice steady. "The perimeter is locked down. Every officer on this force is within a hundred yards of this dock. You aren't getting out of here."
"I don't need to get out of here," the guard snarled, his finger twitching nervously against the trigger. "I just need to make sure Richard’s loose ends get tied up permanently. He pays well, but the people behind him pay better."
Maya stood up slowly from the mud, her trench coat dripping with river water. Her eyes weren't filled with fear; they burned with a cold, terrifying clarity that mirrored Evelyn’s own fury.
"Who is paying you?" Maya demanded, taking a deliberate step forward. "Who else is tied to the trust fund?"
"Back off, lady!" the guard screamed, swinging the barrel toward her.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Evelyn yelled, lunging forward with a speed that caught everyone off guard.
Instead of diving for cover, Evelyn grabbed a heavy wooden oar leaning against the side of the boathouse and hurled it like a javelin directly at the guard's chest. The heavy timber struck him squarely, knocking the wind out of him with a brutal thud. The pistol discharged harmlessly into the dark sky, a sharp crack that echoed across the water, before the guard collapsed backward into the muddy reeds.
Detective Vance was on him in a second, slamming the man face-down into the mud and slapping handcuffs onto his wrists with practiced efficiency.
As the commotion settled, Evelyn fell back against a wooden piling, gasping for air. Her expensive gown was ruined, stained with river mud and soaked through with mist. Maya rushed over, wrapping her arms around her sister in a fierce, binding embrace that bridged twelve lost years in a single second.
"You're safe now," Maya whispered against Evelyn's hair. "We both are."
"Not yet," a weak voice wheezed from the ground.
They all turned to look at the subdued guard. Spitting out a mouthful of mud, he laughed—a wet, hysterical sound—and looked directly at Evelyn.
May you like
"You think Richard and Julian acted alone?" the guard choked out, blood trickling from his lip. "Check the foundation’s board of directors. The person who signed off on Maya's 'death' certificate... is sitting in the back of the lead police cruiser right now."
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