Chapter 5 - The River Road Ambush
*POW! POW!*
Two supersonic cracks ripped through the cool night air. The driver’s side mirror of the Highlander exploded into a cloud of plastic shards and silvered glass. The second bullet tore through the rear quarter-panel, lodging with a metallic screech into the wheel well.
Lily shrieked from the backseat, sobbing hysterically into her unicorn plushie. “Mommy! Mommy!”
“Stay down, Lily! Keep your head between your knees!” Ethan screamed, unbuckling his own seatbelt and throwing his upper body into the rear cabin to cover his sister with his own back. “I’ve got you, Lil! I’ve got you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
Sarah didn't flinch. Her hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two with the strength of steel vices. Adrenaline turned the world into hyper-focus. Every bump in the road, every flicker of moonlight through the overhanging pine branches, every shift of the car’s weight was telegraphed directly into her palms.
The river road was approaching—a winding, two-lane ribbon of crumbling asphalt carved into the limestone cliffs above the Blackwood River. To the left was solid rock; to the right was a steep eighty-foot drop down into the rushing, icy water.
The Dodge Charger pulled back behind her, revving its supercharged engine. Victor wasn’t trying to shoot out her tires anymore; he was aiming to execute a PIT maneuver—tapping her rear quarter-panel to send the heavy SUV spinning off the cliff edge.
“Hold on!” Sarah gritted her teeth.
Ahead, the yellow hazard signs of the closed state boat launch flashed into her high beams. Massive orange construction drums and two heavy concrete barriers blocked the main entrance. But just to the right, hidden beneath an overgrowth of blackberry brambles, lay the narrow dirt access lane Mark had spoken of.
Fifty yards.
Forty yards.
The Charger surged forward, nudging the Highlander’s rear bumper. The SUV fishtailed slightly on the loose gravel.
Sarah didn’t hit the brakes. She stomped on the gas pedal.
“Mom, the wall!” Ethan yelled, peering up from over the backseat.
At the very last second, Sarah slammed the brake pedal with both feet while cutting the wheel hard to the right. The anti-lock braking system shuddered violently beneath her sneakers. The SUV skidded sideways, tires screaming, kicking up a rooster-tail of dirt, and squeezed through the tight gap between the concrete barrier and the mountain wall with two inches of clearance on either side.
Victor, moving at seventy miles per hour and expecting Sarah to continue along the main curve, couldn’t make the sharp angle.
The low-slung Charger smashed head-on into the first concrete barrier.
The impact sounded like a bomb detonating. The front end of the sports car crumpled like an accordion. Radiator steam hissed violently into the cold night air as the hood buckled upward into a twisted tent of steel.
Sarah brought the Highlander to a halt fifty yards down the gravel access path, shrouded in total darkness beneath the dense canopy of trees.
She slammed the gearshift into park. Her breath came in ragged, burning gasps.
“Ethan? Lily? Are you hit? Are you okay?”
“We’re okay,” Ethan wheezed, sitting up, his face covered in cold sweat. He checked his little sister from head to toe. “Lily’s okay. She’s not bleeding. We’re okay, Mom.”
Sarah turned around, reaching back to touch both of her children, tears finally breaking past her fierce resolve. Lily reached out with her small hands and grabbed Ethan’s collar, burying her face into her brother’s chest.
“Ethan,” Lily whimpered softly. “I’m sorry I dropped your cake.”
Ethan broke. He pulled his sister into a desperate, crushing hug, burying his face in her hair. “No, Lily… no, sweetie, it was never your fault. I was scared. I was so stupid and scared. I’m the one who’s sorry. I will never, ever let anyone hurt you again.”
Outside, through the rear windshield, Sarah saw movement at the crash site.
The crushed door of the Charger was kicked open from the inside.
Victor Cruz staggered out onto the asphalt. His forehead was split open, blood streaming down the side of his face into his gray beard, but he was holding a heavy semi-automatic handgun in his right hand. He looked down the access path, his eyes catching the faint red reflection of the Highlander’s taillights.
He raised the weapon.
Before he could pull the trigger, two blinding high-beam spotlights tore through the fog from the opposite direction.
A heavy, bull-barred police cruiser slammed to a stop on the road, cutting Victor off.
“POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!”
Detective Mark Vance stepped out from behind the ballistic door of his cruiser, his service weapon drawn, leveled directly at Victor’s chest. Two county patrol units slid to a halt behind him, their blue and red emergency lights painting the trees in strobe-like fury.
Victor looked at the three armed officers. He looked toward Sarah’s SUV down the dark lane. A sickening, cruel smile stretched across his bloody face.
He didn't fire. He tossed the pistol onto the crushed hood of his car and raised his hands into the air.
May you like
“Arrest me, Vance,” Victor called out, laughing through a mouthful of bloody teeth. “Go ahead and lock me up! But you tell Sarah… her dead husband didn’t just steal my money. He left something in that house that’s going to tear that whole family apart from the inside out!”
***
