Chapter 7 - The Interrogation in the Dark
The harsh beam of the flashlight pinned David against the built-in bookshelves like an insect under a microscope. He squinted, raising a hand to block the blinding glare while tightening his grip on the heavy blue-covered storybook. The towering silhouette in the doorway stepped further into the living room, revealing a man in his late forties with a scarred jawline and a dark tactical jacket, holding a Remington shotgun with chilling ease.
"Who the hell are you?" David demanded, his voice trembling slightly despite his desperate attempt to sound brave. "Where is my daughter?"
The man let out a low, humorless chuckle, lowering the barrel just an inch while keeping David squarely in his sights.
"Your daughter is safe enough for now, Mr. Miller," the man replied, his voice gravelly and accented by a faint Midwestern drawl. "As for who I am, let's just say I'm the guy your wife hired to clean up the mess you're currently making. Though it seems Elena underestimated your stubbornness."
David pushed himself up from the floor, keeping the bookshelf at his back. He glanced toward the open secret alcove, calculating his odds of reaching the heavy metal briefcase before the armed intruder could react.
"Elena doesn't own this house," David countered sharply, stalling for time. "She’s nothing more than a grifter who wormed her way into my life after my first wife passed. I have her journals. I know about the coercion, the financial manipulation—everything."
The man paused, tilting his head as if genuinely amused by the revelation. He stepped closer, the amber light dancing across the polished hardwood floors.
"Journals?" The man sneered. "Paper burns easily, Mr. Miller. And people disappear even faster. You think Elena is the mastermind here? You’re playing checkers while she was forced into a grandmaster's game years ago."
David’s mind raced. The stranger’s words confirmed his worst fears: Elena was merely a pawn in a much larger, darker conspiracy involving people far more dangerous than an ambitious gold-digger.
"If she’s a pawn, then who’s pulling the strings?" David asked, taking a half-step forward. "You? Or someone higher up who wants those books?"
The man’s expression hardened instantly. He raised the shotgun, leveling it squarely at David’s chest.
"You ask too many questions for a man whose daughter’s life is currently hanging by a thread," the intruder snarled. "Put the blue book down on the floor, kick the metal briefcase out of that alcove, and sit down on the leather couch. Hands behind your head."
David hesitated, his eyes darting toward the front door. It was his only possible escape route, but it was twenty feet away across open flooring.
May you like
Before the man could bark another order, a sharp screech of tires echoed from the driveway outside, followed by the blinding sweep of headlights cutting through the living room windows.
---
