Chapter 3 - Shadows on the Wall
The storm hit the county around four in the morning, unleashing heavy sheets of freezing rain against the glass windows of St. Jude’s Hospital. Inside Room 314, Elena sat up straight, her eyes wide, staring into the dark corners of the room. The pain medication the doctor had given her had begun to wear off, replaced by a raw, throbbing ache along her ribcage and temple.
Beside her, Martha had finally fallen asleep, her head resting awkwardly on the side of the mattress, her breathing deep and uneven.
Elena reached out with a trembling hand toward the nightstand, where her phone lay connected to a wall charger. Her fingers brushed the glass screen. The original video file on the device had been deleted by Collins during his rampage, but she knew the secondary cloud backup was still sitting in a hidden partition she had set up months ago when the abuse first began to escalate.
Suddenly, the overhead lights in the room flickered violently and died.
The low hum of the medical monitors stuttered before the auxiliary generators kicked in, bathing the room in an eerie, pale yellow emergency light.
Outside in the corridor, the rhythmic sound of heavy footsteps approached. Elena frozen, her heart slamming violently against her ribs. She looked toward the small glass panel on the door. The silhouette standing outside was tall and broad, but it wasn't Deputy Miller.
The door handle turned with a agonizingly slow, metallic click.
Elena slid off the bed silently, her bare feet hitting the cold linoleum floor. "Mom," she whispered frantically, shaking her mother’s shoulder. "Mom, wake up!"
Martha stirred, groggy and confused. "Elena? What's wrong?"
"Shh! Someone's coming," Elena hissed, grabbing her mother’s arm and pulling her toward the small bathroom in the corner of the room.
The heavy door creaked open. A man in a dark rain slicker, his face obscured by a pulled-down baseball cap, stepped inside the room. In his gloved right hand, he held a sleek, silenced semi-automatic pistol. He didn't hesitate; he walked straight toward the hospital bed, raising the weapon toward the outline of the pillows bundled beneath the blankets.
Thwip! Thwip!
The suppressed gunshots sounded like heavy pops against the quiet room. Feathers exploded from the torn pillows, scattering into the air like surreal snow.
Inside the cramped bathroom, Elena pressed her hand over her mother’s mouth to suppress the older woman's horrified gasp. Tears streamed down Elena’s face, but panic was swiftly overwritten by a cold, desperate survival instinct. She reached into her pocket, her fingers closing tightly around her phone.
The gunman approached the bed, pulling back the blanket to inspect his work. Seeing only bundled towels and feathers, he cursed softly, his voice low and guttural. He turned slowly toward the closed bathroom door.
Through the crack in the doorframe, Elena saw the shadow approaching. There was nowhere left to run.
Suddenly, the heavy wooden door of the main bedroom was kicked off its hinges with a deafening crash.
"Drop it!" Sheriff Vance’s voice bellowed through the room, filled with thunderous fury.
The assassin spun around, bringing his silenced pistol up to target the Sheriff. Vance didn't hesitate. He raised his standard-issue .45 caliber Glock and pulled the trigger twice.
The thunderous double-tap shattered the quiet of the hospital floor. The heavy rounds struck the gunman squarely in the chest, lifting him off his feet and slamming him hard against the wall before he crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Vance stepped over the fallen figure, his weapon held high, sweeping the room for additional threats. "Elena! Martha!" he yelled, his voice rough with anxiety.
The bathroom door creaked open slowly. Elena stepped out, her face pale as marble, protecting her trembling mother behind her.
Vance lowered his gun, his eyes taking in the sight of the shredded pillows and the dead man on the floor. He swore under his breath, stepping over to the body and using his boot to roll the gunman onto his back. He reached down and pulled off the baseball cap.
It wasn't a local street criminal. It was a face Vance recognized instantly—a former state trooper turned private security contractor who frequently worked security details for District Attorney Marcus Thorne.
"He tried to kill us," Martha sobbed, sinking to her knees on the floor. "He tried to kill my baby!"
Vance knelt beside Elena, his stern face filled with fierce determination. "Listen to me, Elena. They wiped the file from the department server. Someone inside the precinct is helping Collins, and it goes all the way up to the DA’s office."
Elena met his gaze, her jaw setting into a tight, hard line. "They didn't get everything, Sheriff." She raised her phone, her thumb tapping the screen to reveal a glowing green icon. "I set up a secondary, encrypted local partition. The raw video file is still here."
May you like
Vance let out a long, slow breath. "Then you are holding the one piece of evidence that can bring down half the corrupt officials in this county. Which means as long as you are in this town, you are a walking target."
He stood up, offering his broad, steady hand to help her up. "Pack whatever you have. We are leaving right now."
