Chapter 7 - THE FINAL STANDPain shot through my hip as I crashed back onto the dirt floor. My flashlight rolled away, its beam pointing uselessly at the dusty far corner.
Jack towered over me, blood running down his chin from his split lip, his face twisted into a demonic sneer. He dropped the crowbar and threw his full weight on top of me, his thick hands clamping down around my throat.
"I gave you everything!" he choked out, squeezing tighter and tighter. "A mansion! Gold! Respect! And you ruined me!"
The world began to blur. Black spots danced in front of my vision. Air wouldn't come into my lungs. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth again—just like the morning he hit me in our kitchen.
Don't surrender, a voice inside my head screamed. Silence was always his favorite part. Don't give him silence!
My hands frantically clawed at the dirt beneath me, searching for anything—a rock, a pipe, a piece of wood.
My fingers brushed against something hard and metallic near the concrete patch.
The rusted iron spade.
Gathering every last ounce of energy left in my fading body, I grabbed the wooden handle of the spade and swung it upward with raw, desperate instinct.
THUD.
The heavy iron blade struck Jack squarely across the side of his head.
He groaned, his grip loosening instantly as he collapsed sideways onto the dirt, clutching his temple in agony.
I gasped for air, coughing violently as sweet oxygen rushed back into my lungs. I scrambled away on my hands and knees, pulling myself up using the basement support beam.
Jack was dazed, struggling to stand, wiping blood from his forehead. "Claire... you... you crazy bitch..."
"I’m not your victim anymore, Jack," I rasped, my voice raw and hoarse.
I reached out and grabbed the flashlight from the floor. But instead of running up the stairs, I pointed the beam directly at the wooden cellar doors above the stairwell.
BOOM!
The doors burst open from the outside with a deafening crash.
Bright red and blue lights illuminated the dusty darkness as half a dozen armed federal marshals and SWAT officers poured down the stairs, guns drawn, laser sights dotting the basement walls.
"FBI! DON'T MOVE! GET ON THE GROUND NOW!"
Jack froze, blinded by the tactical spotlights shining down on him.
"Drop to your knees! Hands behind your head! NOW!"
Jack looked at the officers, then looked at me, realizing in a split second what had happened.
I hadn't come here alone. I had alerted Detective Vance the moment I found the Savannah property deed in Jack’s hidden files two days ago. I had led them straight to the body. I had been wearing a concealed GPS tracking transponder inside my bag the entire time.
I was never the prey. I was the bait.
"Claire..." Jack whimpered, his terrifying strength evaporating into pathetic, cowardice tears as three officers tackled him to the ground, pinning him into the exact dirt where Evelyn had lay forgotten for seven years. "Claire, please! Tell them! Help me!"
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I stood above him, my throat bruised, my body battered, but my head held high.
"Goodbye, Jack," I said quietly.
