Chapter 2 - Silent Sirens
The low silent panic signal activated immediately, transmitting a priority medical distress code to the local precinct where my father’s former partner, Chief Arthur Miller, was on duty.
"Get up, Claire!" Ryan demanded, leaning down to grab my shoulder. "You're making a scene!"
"Don't touch me!" I rasped, shielding my stomach with my good arm. "If you touch me again, Ryan, so help me God—"
"Or what?" Patricia sneered, gathering the papers from the table. "You're in no position to dictate terms. You're an unemployed mother-to-be living on your husband's patience."
"My father paid for every inch of this house," I spat back, forcing myself up against the wall. "You haven't spent a dime here."
Ryan's eyes darkened. He stepped closer, towering over me, trying to intimidate me into submission as he had done for months. "You sign the property over to my LLC, or I walk away. I leave you with nothing. No support, no marriage, no home."
"Then walk away," I whispered.
He grabbed my burned arm, squeezing down directly over the blistered skin. A horrific tear of pain cut through me, and I screamed—a sound so raw it shook the kitchen windows.
Wail.
The sound was distant at first, then rapidly roared closer. Red and blue strobe lights flashed through the living room windows, cutting through the morning shadows.
Ryan dropped my arm as if he’d been burned himself. "What is that?"
"I said no ambulances!" Patricia panicked, running toward the front window. "Ryan! There are three police cars on the lawn!"
The front door was kicked open with a heavy, metallic crunch.
"POLICE! STEP AWAY FROM THE FEMALE!"
Chief Arthur Miller stormed into the kitchen with two uniformed officers, weapons drawn. Arthur took one look at the boiling pot on the floor, the severe burns glistening on my arm, and the fear in my eyes, and his face turned to stone.
"Arthur..." Ryan stammered, raising his hands. "It was an accident! She slipped near the stove—"
"Shut up, Ryan," Chief Miller growled, stepping between Ryan and me. He immediately knelt by my side. "Claire, sweetie, can you hear me? Paramedics are right behind us."
"It's on the clock, Arthur," I whispered, pointing a shaking finger up at the pantry wall. " Dad's clock. It saw everything."
Arthur’s gaze flicked up to the old oak clock. A tiny green micro-LED, hidden inside the roman numeral XII, blinked once.
Arthur looked back at Ryan and Patricia. "Officers, place both of them under arrest for felony domestic assault, reckless endangerment, and obstruction."
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"You can't arrest me!" Patricia shrieked as an officer forced her arms behind her back. "I didn't touch her! This is my son's house!"
"This is Claire's house, ma'am," Chief Miller said coldly. "And you're going to jail."
