Chapter 5 - The Showdown
"Well, well," Julian Fletcher said, a cold, mocking smile spreading across his face. "If it isn't the grieving parents. You should have stayed at the hospital, Mr. Vance."
Behind him, Rachel stepped into the light. When she saw me, her face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"You always had to have everything, Sarah," Rachel spat, her voice trembling with rage. "The perfect husband, the perfect house, the perfect little daughter. You got the trust fund, and I got the debts. I was the one who took care of grandmother while she was dying, and you got her love."
"She loved you too, Rachel!" I cried, tears spilling over my cheeks. "We would have helped you! If you had just asked, we would have given you the money!"
"I did ask!" Rachel screamed. "I asked Mark! And he looked at me like I was dirt! He threatened to tell you about my debts! He wanted to ruin me!"
"You tried to kill a seven-year-old girl, Rachel," Mark said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He stepped in front of me, shielding me from Julian’s gun. "There is no excuse for what you did. You are going to prison."
"Not tonight," Julian said, raising the revolver, pointing it directly at Mark’s chest. "We’re leaving. And you two are going to be a very tragic case of a double murder-suicide. The grief of losing your daughter was just too much for you... isn't that right?"
My heart stopped. Julian’s finger began to tighten around the trigger.
Crack.
A sudden, deafening sound shattered the quiet of the lodge.
The window behind Julian exploded into a thousand glittering shards of glass. A red laser dot appeared on Julian’s chest, and a voice boomed from the darkness outside through a megaphone.
"This is the State Police! Drop your weapon immediately! The building is surrounded!"
Julian froze, his eyes wide with terror. He looked toward the broken window, then back at Mark. In that split second of distraction, Mark lunged forward.
He slammed his body into Julian, sending the gun flying across the wooden floor. The two men crashed to the ground, trading heavy, desperate blows in the dark.
"Rachel, stop!" I yelled as my sister made a run for the gun.
She threw herself toward the corner where the revolver had landed, but I was faster. I tackled her from behind, my hands grabbing her hair, pulling her back. We tumbled across the floor, scratching, clawing, all the sisterly love we had ever shared dissolving into a brutal struggle for survival.
Rachel grabbed my throat, her fingers squeezing hard. "I hate you," she hissed, her eyes wild. "I should have poisoned you too."
I couldn't breathe. The room was turning dark at the edges. With my last bit of strength, I reached out and grabbed the heavy metal flashlight Mark had dropped.
I swung it with all my might.
Thud.
The flashlight struck the side of Rachel’s head. Her grip loosened, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
I fell back, gasping for air, as the front door of the lodge was kicked open. A dozen state troopers in tactical gear flooded the room, their weapons drawn, their flashlight beams cutting through the dust.
"Clear! Clear!" they shouted.
They pulled Julian off Mark, pinning the doctor to the floor and clicking the handcuffs into place. Mark stood up, his face bruised and bleeding from a cut over his eye, but his eyes were immediately searching for me.
"Sarah," he gasped, rushing over and pulling me into his arms. "Are you okay? Are you okay?"
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"I'm okay," I sobbed, burying my face in his chest as the police dragged my sister Rachel out of the room. "Is it over? Is she gone?"
"She's gone, Sarah. She’s never coming back."
