Chapter 4 - THE GRIFFITH PARK AMBUSH
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the concrete paths of Griffith Park. Tourists milled about near the historic carousel and the grassy hillsides, completely oblivious to the high-stakes chess match playing out in their midst.
I clutched my coat tightly around me, the dummy USB drive burning a hole in my pocket. My palms were slick with sweat.
By the central stone fountain, a sleek black Maybach idling by the curb stood out like a sore thumb against the casual park atmosphere. The tinted rear window rolled down silently.
Victoria Sterling sat inside, framed by dark imported leather and polished mahogany trim. She wore oversized Chanel sunglasses and a crisp white linen blazer, looking as though she had stepped right out of a luxury magazine spread.
"Sarah," she called out, her voice carrying easily across the splashing water of the fountain. "Step closer. Don't be shy."
I walked toward the car, my boots crunching on the gravel. Two burly men in identical dark suits stood a few paces behind the vehicle, their hands casually resting inside their jackets where shoulder holsters were clearly outlined.
"I have what you want," I said, stopping a few feet from the open window. "The flash drive. The note. The license."
Victoria smiled, a cold, humorless stretching of her lips. "Good girl. I always knew you had survival instincts. Hand them over through the window."
"Not yet," I replied, holding my ground. "I want proof that Harrison is alive and unharmed first. And I want your guarantee that you leave us alone forever."
Victoria’s smile vanished instantly. The warmth in her eyes—fake as it was—evaporated into pure, unadulterated ice.
"You are in no position to negotiate, Sarah," she hissed softly. "You are a penniless nobody standing in front of a woman who can buy and sell your entire neighborhood before lunch. Give me the drive."
Before I could back away, one of the suited guards stepped forward with terrifying speed, grabbing my arm in a vise-like grip and twisting it behind my back. Air rushed out of my lungs in a sharp gasp.
"Let me go!" I screamed, struggling against him.
Victoria leaned over the center console, her face inches from mine as she reached into my coat pocket and snatched the dummy flash drive along with the folded note.
"Foolish, foolish girl," Victoria murmured, examining the plastic casing. "Did you really think I wouldn't check?"
She tossed the drive onto the leather seat, her eyes narrowing with sudden fury. "This is a corrupted decoy. Where is the real drive, Sarah?"
"You'll never find it!" I gasped, tears of pain and frustration stinging my eyes. "It’s already in the hands of federal journalists! The moment you touch me or my daughter, the entire world learns that Rachel Collins is a thief and a murderer!"
Victoria froze. Her face drained of color for a fraction of a second before her expression hardened into pure malice.
"Kill her," she whispered to the guard holding me.
The guard’s grip tightened, and a heavy rag soaked in a pungent, chemical scent slammed over my nose and mouth.
May you like
I kicked, thrashed, and tried to scream, but the sweet, suffocating chemical fumes filled my lungs. The bright sunlight of Griffith Park began to fracture into kaleidoscope patterns, spinning wildly as darkness rushed in to swallow me whole.
My last conscious thought wasn't of Victoria, or Harrison, or the millions of dollars. It was of Chloe, sitting alone in her bedroom, waiting for a mother who might never come home.
