Chapter 8
The sudden, brilliant lighting of the guest room cast sharp, inescapable shadows across Daniel’s face. He wore silk pajamas, his fair skin flushed with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. The luxury watch on his wrist caught the light as he raised the suppressed handgun, pointing it directly at Emma’s chest.
"You really couldn't just leave it alone, could you?" Daniel sneered, his voice low and dangerous. "Margaret said you might try something stupid. That's why I've been sitting in the dark at the end of the hall for two hours."
Emma didn't flinch. She stood perfectly still, holding the blue legal folder tightly against her side. Her beautiful, elegant face was an unreadable mask of ice.
"You killed her," Emma stated, her American accent crisp and echoing in the quiet room. "She was six years old, Daniel. She was your niece."
"It was an accident!" Daniel hissed, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. "Vanessa slapped her, she tripped, and she hit her head! We didn't mean to kill her! But once she was dead... we had to protect the family. The trust fund, the business... it would have all been ruined."
"So you threw her in the lake," Emma whispered, a deep, primal rage burning behind her eyes. "You threw my baby in the freezing water, packed your matching suitcases, and flew to St. Lucia to drink margaritas."
"We needed an alibi!" Daniel yelled, his hand shaking slightly holding the gun. "And it worked, until you found that damn tablet! Now, slide that folder across the floor, Emma. Put your hands on your head."
"And then what?" Emma asked, taking a slow, deliberate step to her right. "You shoot me? A suppressed gun still makes noise, Daniel. Margaret will hear. The guards will hear."
"Margaret told me to do it," Daniel revealed, a sick, arrogant smile twisting his lips. "She said if you broke in, you were a hostile intruder. A grieving, psychotic mother who attacked me in my own home. I defended myself. The police are already drafting your committal papers. They'll just write it off as a tragic suicide by cop. Now, give me the folder!"
Emma looked at the heavy marble fireplace, calculating the distance. She looked back at Daniel’s trembling hand. He was a coward, used to bullying children and paying off coroners. He had never pulled a trigger in his life.
"You want the folder?" Emma asked, her voice dangerously soft.
She held the blue folder out with her left hand. Daniel’s eyes flicked toward the documents for a fraction of a second, his focus breaking.
In that microsecond, Emma threw the heavy UV flashlight she held in her right hand directly at his face.
The heavy metal cylinder struck Daniel squarely on the bridge of his nose. He cried out, stumbling backward as blood instantly gushed over his lips. The gun fired wildly, the suppressed pfft sound accompanied by a bullet shattering the window behind Emma.
Emma didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, grabbing the heavy brass fire poker from the hearth. As Daniel recovered, raising the gun again, Emma swung the brass rod with all her strength.
May you like
The heavy metal struck Daniel’s wrist with a sickening crunch. He screamed, dropping the handgun onto the pristine carpet.
Emma kicked the gun under the bed. She stood over her brother-in-law, the brass poker raised, her chest heaving, looking down at the man who had murdered her daughter.
