Chapter 7 - The Roof in the Rain
The roof was dangerously slick with rainwater.
Emma landed hard on the asphalt shingles, her knees buckling under the impact. Pain shot through her ankle, but the surge of adrenaline drowned it out. She scrambled backward on her hands and knees toward the edge of the roof.
Behind her, Grant leaned out of the broken bedroom window, his face wet with rain, his expression pure venom.
"Emma! Stop!" he commanded, swinging one leg over the window sill and stepping out onto the wet shingles.
"Don't come near me!" Emma screamed over the sound of the pouring rain and the howling wind.
"Give me the flash drive, Emma," Grant said, stepping slowly across the sloped roof, using his iron bar for balance. "Hand it over, and we can figure this out. I can tell the police you were confused, that you had a nervous breakdown. I can protect you!"
"You don't protect anyone, Grant!" Emma cried out, backing up until her heels touched the edge of the aluminum gutter. "You destroy everything you touch!"
Grant smiled—a cold, terrifying grin that made him look completely unhinged. "Then let's see how well you fly."
He lunged across the roof, grabbing Emma by the lapels of her sweater.
Emma fought back with a fierce, frantic energy she didn't know she possessed. She scratched at his face, her fingernails tearing across his cheek. Grant grunted in pain, dropping the iron bar, which slithered down the wet shingles and fell two stories into the bushes below.
He grabbed her throat, pressing her back over the terrifying drop of the roof edge. "Where is Nolan?!" he yelled into her face. "Where did you hide him?!"
"He's somewhere... you can never reach," Emma choked out, her vision darkening as his grip tightened around her airway.
With the last reserve of her strength, Emma raised her right hand, holding the sharp bronze shard of broken glass she had scooped up off the bedroom carpet.
She drove the sharp glass deep into Grant's shoulder.
Grant screamed in agony, his grip on her throat breaking as he staggered backward on the wet roof. His polished leather dress shoes lost all traction on the slippery shingles.
He slid backward, his hands frantically clawing at the smooth roof surface, trying to find something to hold onto.
"Emma!" he shrieked.
Grant slid right off the edge of the roof, falling through the air before crashing heavily into the wooden pergola over the backyard patio, the structure splintering with a deafening roar.
Emma collapsed onto the cold, wet roof, gasping for air, her chest heaving as she looked down over the edge.
Grant lay motionless among the broken wooden beams of the pergola, breathing heavily, his leg visibly broken, completely immobilized.
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Sirens wailed in the distance—a chorus of high-pitched red lights flashing through the rain-soaked neighborhood streets.
Nolan’s call to the federal authorities had finally arrived.
