Chapter 11
The sudden pitch blackness was absolute, swallowing the backyard, the wooden fence, and the patio table in an instant. The deafening crack of thunder vibrated through the damp earth, rattling the air conditioning unit and leaving a ringing silence in its wake. In the fraction of a second before the backup emergency generator kicked in, a blinding flash of gunfire tore through the dark.
“Get down!” Leo roared, lunging forward through the air.
A heavy impact slammed into Clara’s shoulder, sending her sprawling hard onto the dew-soaked grass. The coarse fabric of her dark green cardigan scraped against the ground as she rolled, her breath knocked entirely out of her lungs. Just feet away, a muffled groan echoed in the dark, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the concrete patio.
A second later, the harsh amber floodlights flickered back to life, powered by the house’s automatic generator.
The scene had transformed into a nightmare. Sheriff Miller was sprawled across the edge of the patio stones, his service revolver clattering away across the concrete. A dark, spreading stain was rapidly soaking through the fabric of his uniform shirt near his shoulder. Standing a few feet away, the state trooper held his rifle steady, smoke curling faintly from the barrel, while breathing heavily.
“Don’t move!” the trooper shouted, keeping his sights locked on the fallen sheriff.
Elena was kneeling on the grass just inches from the patio, her hands clamped over her ears, rocking back and forth in silent, hysterical shock. Leo was crouched over Clara, his hands hovering anxiously above her shoulders.
“Clara! Are you hit?” Leo asked frantically, his eyes scanning her for injuries.
Clara winced, clutching her left arm where the bullet had grazed the heavy wool of her cardigan, leaving a scorched tear in the fabric. “I’m… I’m okay. It just grazed me.” She looked up, her gaze darting frantically around the yard. “Where’s Elena? Is she hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Elena managed to choke out, her voice trembling violently as she lowered her hands. She stared at the wounded sheriff with wide, horror-struck eyes. “He… he tried to shoot in the dark. He aimed right for the window.”
Sheriff Miller groaned, pressing his hand against the wound in his shoulder, blood staining his fingers. He looked up at the state trooper with a twisted, mocking grin. “You think arresting me stops anything? My associates have copies of every forged document, every transfer receipt, and every land title in this county stored off-site. The moment I don’t check in by midnight, they release the whole package to the federal prosecutors.”
The state trooper didn’t blink. He reached for his radio mic, clipping it down to speak. “Unit One to Dispatch. Shots fired at the Vance residence. Suspect secured. Requesting immediate medical transport and federal investigators at the scene.”
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Leo helped Clara to her feet, steadying her as she winced in pain. She looked down at the open black plastic trash bag near the air conditioning unit, then across the lawn toward the dark woodline.
“He’s right,” Clara whispered, her voice laced with chilling realization. “The sheriff is just a middleman. The real mastermind hasn’t even shown their face yet.”
