Chapter 2 - The Getaway
The ink smeared onto his thumb. Wet. Someone had written it seconds before Eleanor handed over the box.
He shoved the photo into his pocket and sprinted upstairs. He needed to know what his wife knew.
Marcus kicked the master bedroom door open.
Sarah didn't jump. She was violently shoving clothes into an oversized suitcase. Austin’s duffel bag sat on the bed, already zipped.
"What the hell are you doing?" Marcus demanded.
Sarah didn't look at him. "I've known since the day we married, Marcus. I'm not dying in this house."
Marcus grabbed her wrist. Her pulse hammered against his palm.
He looked at the vanity. She was leaving everything behind. The Cartier watch, the diamond tennis bracelet, the heirloom pearls. But she grabbed a bulky, outdated audio recorder and shoved it deep into Austin’s backpack.
"Why are you packing that trash?" he growled.
Before she could answer, the bedroom windows exploded inward.
Glass rained over the carpet. Blinding red and blue strobes pierced the darkness outside. Heavy boots pounded up the stairs.
A SWAT team kicked the splintered door frame out of the way. The lead officer didn't even glance at Sarah or Austin.
He jammed the barrel of an assault rifle directly into Marcus's sternum.
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"Marcus Vance. Hands where I can see them."
