Chapter 6 - The Sister's Strength
When I woke up, my hands were zip-tied behind my back. My head throbbed with a blinding pain. I was in the back of a moving van, the metallic walls rattling loudly.
Panic seized me, but not for my own life. Claire.
If they had me, it meant Ethan was free to go after her.
Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Claire was waiting. I had told her I was going to the store and would be back in twenty minutes. When an hour passed, she tried calling my phone. It went straight to voicemail.
Her twin instinct—the same one that woke me up the night she called—flared to life. She knew I was in trouble.
Instead of hiding in the closet like she would have done a month ago, Claire stood up. She walked to my safe, punched in the code I had taught her, and pulled out my primary Glock 19.
She checked the magazine. Fully loaded.
Suddenly, the power in the apartment cut out. Plunged into darkness, the only light came from the streetlamps outside.
A soft click echoed from the front door. Someone had a key. Not a lockpick. A copied key.
The door opened with a slow, agonizing creak. Footsteps stepped onto the hardwood floor.
"Claire..." Ethan's voice drifted through the dark apartment, a sickeningly sweet sing-song. "I know you're here, honey. Mara isn't coming back. She had a little accident."
Claire stood in the shadow of the hallway. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her hands, holding the heavy gun, were surprisingly steady. The battered, terrified victim had died on the bedroom floor that rainy night. The woman standing here now was a survivor.
"You really thought a cop could protect you from me?" Ethan taunted, moving deeper into the living room, a heavy steel pipe in his hand. "Nobody says no to me, Claire. Not you. Not your sister."
He turned the corner into the hallway.
A blinding flashlight beam hit him squarely in the eyes.
"Drop it, Ethan," Claire commanded. Her voice didn't shake.
Ethan squinted, raising a hand to block the light. When his eyes adjusted, he saw his frail, broken wife standing ten feet away, pointing a loaded 9mm directly at his chest.
For a second, he looked shocked. Then, he laughed. "You won't shoot me. You don't have the guts. You're pathetic."
He took a step forward, raising the pipe.
BANG.
The gunshot deafened the small hallway. Ethan screamed as the bullet shattered his kneecap. He collapsed to the floor, dropping the pipe, clutching his ruined leg as blood pooled on the wood.
Claire walked forward slowly, keeping the gun aimed at his head.
"Where is my sister?" she asked, her voice as cold as ice.
"You bitch!" he howled in agony. "They're gonna kill her! They took her to the old factory on 4th street!"
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Claire didn't hesitate. She grabbed my police radio from the counter, pressed the transmit button, and spoke clearly.
"10-13, officer down. Requesting all available units to the old factory on 4th street. Suspect is armed. And send an ambulance to my location. My husband had an accident."
