Chapter 8 - The Escape
Before Vance could pull the trigger, headlights flashed wildly through the study window, blinding him for a fraction of a second.
I seized the moment, slamming the heavy oak desk drawer into his knees and diving toward the floor. A muffled shot tore through the leather chair behind me.
I grabbed the revolver, rolled onto my back, and fired two shots into the ceiling. The deafening blasts filled the enclosed room.
Vance cursed, stumbling backward out into the hallway as the sound of slamming car doors echoed from the driveway.
"Teresa!" a voice shouted from the front door.
It was Inspector Vance's worst nightmare—Deputy Sheriff Morales, an old friend of my late husband, who had been patrolling the perimeter after my earlier reports of suspicious vehicles.
Footsteps echoed frantically down the back stairs as Dr. Vance fled into the night through the rear exits.
Morales burst into the study with his flashlight drawn, finding me trembling against the wall, the smoking revolver still clamped in my hand.
"Teresa! Are you alright? What happened?"
"He was here..." I gasped, pointing toward the shattered back door.
"The man behind Rodrigo. He isn't looking for Mariana anymore, Morales."
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I looked down at the satellite phone still glowing in my left hand.
"He's coming for me."
