Chapter 10: The Desperate Escape
The heavy brass lamp struck Vance’s shoulder with a dull thud, knocking his aim off just enough for the bullet to splinter the wooden bookshelf instead of finding Julian’s chest. Cursing fiercely, Vance stumbled backward, regaining his balance with dangerous speed, but Julian didn't wait to see recovery. He threw himself sideways through the open study doorway, diving headfirst down the hallway toward the guest bedroom window that overlooked the garage roof.
Footsteps pounded heavily on the hardwood floor behind him. "Stop right there, or I swear I'll drop you!" Vance bellowed, his voice echoing through the quiet suburban house.
Julian ignored the threat, scrambled across the guest room carpet, and threw open the sliding glass window that led out onto the shingled roof above the garage. The torrential rain hit him instantly, soaking his ruined wedding suit to the skin and blinding him with sheets of cold water. He climbed out onto the slick, sloping shingles, his polished shoes slipping dangerously on the wet asphalt. He caught his balance by grabbing a gutter pipe, swung his legs over the edge, and dropped heavily into the muddy flower bed below, landing hard on his left ankle with a sharp jolt of pain.
He bit back a cry of agony, forcing himself up onto his feet. He couldn't afford to limp. Adrenaline masked the throbbing fracture in his ankle as he sprinted toward his car parked on the street, fumbling wildly in his jacket pockets for his ignition keys. He pulled them free just as the front door of the house burst open, Vance stepping out onto the porch with his flashlight sweeping across the front lawn.
Julian dove into his sedan, slammed the door shut, and locked it simultaneously. He jammed the key into the ignition, twisted it hard, and the engine roared to life with a comforting mechanical whine. Through the rain-streaked windshield, he saw Vance sprinting down the driveway toward the driver's side door, raising his weapon once more.
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Julian threw the car into reverse, burning rubber against the wet asphalt as he backed out of the driveway in a wide, reckless arc, narrowly missing a mail postal box before slamming the gearshift into drive and flooring the accelerator. He sped down the suburban street, tires throwing sheets of water into the air, leaving the dark house and the corrupt deputy behind in his rearview mirror.
His breathing came in ragged gasps as he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. His ankle throbbed with white-hot pain, his clothes were soaked through with mud and rain, and his wedding was ruined. But he was alive, and he knew the truth. Now, he had to get back to the Valley View Barn and rescue Clara before it was too late.
