flash
The neon lights of the ambulance flashed frantic red and white against the rain-slicked pavement of Elmwood Avenue, casting an eerie, bleeding hue across Daniel Carter’s face. He stood on the curb, his expensive tailored jacket soaked through, his hands jammed deep into his pockets to hide a barely perceptible tremor. / Chapter 6 / 8

Chapter 6 - Checkmate

"Drop the weapon, Detective," Daniel said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion, sounding more like a CEO dismissing an underperforming employee than a cornered killer. "You're trespassing on private property without a warrant. If I shoot you right now, it's self-defense. A tragic break-in gone wrong."

Brooks tightened his grip on his Glock, his eyes locked onto Daniel's finger resting lightly on the trigger. "You killed your wife, Daniel. You wrote it all down in this journal. It's over."

Daniel let out a cold, chilling laugh. "Over? Detective, you still don't understand the game we're playing. That journal? It's paper. Do you know what happens to paper when it comes into contact with a spark?"

From behind Daniel’s back, a faint smell of acrid smoke began to drift into the room.

Brooks's eyes flicked downward. A small incendiary device had been placed near the base of the bookshelf. Sparks were already catching the edge of the heavy oak paneling.

"You're burning your own house down?" Brooks asked, incredulous.

"I'm erasing the board," Daniel smiled, his eyes flashing with manic brilliance. "Insurance will cover the property. And without that physical journal—which, by the way, will be ashes in three minutes—you have nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Daniel stepped forward, closing the distance between them, the gun steady. "Drop the gun, Brooks. Drop it now, or you burn with me."

Brooks weighed his options. The flames were licking up the wooden walls rapidly, the heat suffocating the small study. He slowly lowered his weapon, letting it clatter to the hardwood floor.

Daniel smiled, lowering his guard for a split second as he reached out to grab the journal from Brooks’s hand.

That single split second was all Detective Brooks needed.

Moving with explosive, desperate speed, Brooks lunged forward, driving his shoulder straight into Daniel’s chest. The two men crashed hard against the burning bookshelf, sending a shower of sparks flying in every direction.

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Daniel grunted, swinging the butt of his revolver down toward Brooks’s head, but Brooks ducked, sweeping his leg out and catching Daniel behind the knees. The tech mogul crashed heavily to the floor, his gun skittering across the blazing room.

Flames roared around them, devouring the curtains and turning the night sky outside into a brilliant sheet of orange.

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