Chapter 4 - The Gunman in the Sub-Basement
"End of the line, sweetheart," Walt said, his voice terrifyingly calm, devoid of any grandfatherly warmth. The fluorescent strip above his head flickered, casting deep, hollow shadows across his sunken cheeks.
I froze on the concrete steps, my arms tightening around Lizzy so hard she let out a tiny gasp. Kendra instinctively stepped in front of me, throwing her arm out like a shield.
"Mr. Sterling, put the gun down," Kendra demanded, her voice echoing off the damp concrete walls. "You are in a county hospital. Every security camera down here is backed up off-site. You pull that trigger, and you’ll never see daylight again."
Walt let out a dry, humorless chuckle.
"Kendra, honey, you're a good nurse. Dedicated. But you don't understand how the world works," Walt said, taking a slow, deliberate step up the stairs. "People like us—families like ours—we own the foundation this city is built on. A little blackout, a tragic accident in a hospital stairwell during an emergency evacuation... it writes itself. A deranged mother snaps, takes her sick niece, fights with security, and falls down the concrete stairs. Tragic. So tragic."
My mind raced at a million miles an hour. My hands were sweating against Lizzy’s coat. I could feel my phone still warm in my pocket, Ian’s voice faintly humming through the open line if he was still listening.
Think, I told myself. Think like a lawyer, like a mother, like someone who has nothing left to lose.
"You're not going to shoot us here, Walt," I said, forcing my voice to steady, stepping past Kendra so he was looking directly into my eyes. "Too many variables. Too many witnesses on the outside. If you wanted us dead, you would have done it at the house before you locked Lizzy in that closet for three days."
Walt’s eyes narrowed. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his weathered face.
"Smart girl," Walt whispered. "Just like your mother. Always thought you were too clever for your own good. Which is why you ruined everything. Do you have any idea how much client trust we spent decades building? Do you know what happens to our syndicate if an audit traces Lizzy’s lineage back to the adoption ledger?"
"You're trafficking children," I said, venom dripping from every syllable. "You didn't take Lizzy and Ian in out of the goodness of your hearts. You were fattening her up for a private placement, weren't you? Just like you did thirty years ago with Ian's older brother."
Walt didn't deny it. Instead, a chilling, ugly smile spread across his face.
"And what if I was?" Walt murmured, raising the barrel of the gun just a fraction higher, aiming straight for my shoulder. "Who's going to stop you? The police are upstairs clearing the route for us. Your husband is locked in a panic room three miles away. And you..."
Before Walt could finish his sentence, the heavy steel door behind him was violently kicked open from the outside, crashing into his spine with bone-shattering force.
Walt shrieked, dropping the revolver as he slammed face-first into the concrete wall.
May you like
Standing in the doorway, drenched in rain, with blood smeared across his knuckles and a wild, manic fire in his eyes, was Ian.
"Hello, Dad," Ian whispered, stepping over the groaning, crumpled form of his father. "Long time no see."
