Chapter 6 - The Escape in the Armored Car
“Let us out!” I screamed, throwing my weight against the heavy armored door. I yanked the handle frantically, but it was dead.
The driver chuckled, a dry, grating sound over the hum of the engine. “It’s child-locked, Mrs. Bennett. Bulletproof glass, steel-reinforced doors. You aren’t going anywhere.”
Ellie started to cry, a high, panicked wail. She buried her face in my lap. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to shield her with my own body. My mind raced, stumbling over the shock. How had Thorne infiltrated Gabriel’s security?
“Gabriel will kill you,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the violent trembling in my hands. “When he realizes you took us, he will hunt you down.”
“Moretti is currently walking into an ambush at the bus station,” the driver replied casually, keeping his eyes on the dark, winding road. “By the time he figures out the box isn't there, he’ll be dead.”
I froze. “What do you mean the box isn't there?”
The driver glanced in the mirror. “Your husband was clever, Ruth. But not clever enough. We tore up the bus station lockers two years ago. Nothing. Frank didn’t put the box there.”
My mind spun. The pocket watch... the hands pointing to 4 and 8. If it didn't mean Highway 48, what did it mean?
Look at the hands of time, Ruth. They always point home.
Home.
Not the bus station. The diner.
“Track B4,” I whispered, the realization hitting me with terrifying clarity. “The jukebox.”
Frank hadn’t used the watch to point to a highway. He used it to point to a time. 4:08. Track B4 on the jukebox was 4 minutes and 8 seconds long.
Frank had hidden the box inside the vintage jukebox at the diner.
The driver saw my eyes widen in the mirror. “Ah. I see you figured it out. Doesn't matter now. My crew is already at the diner. Once we drop you and the kid off at the warehouse, we'll go rip that machine apart.”
I looked down at Ellie. She was shaking like a leaf. I thought of Frank, of the diner, of the beautiful life we had built from nothing. I was not going to let this monster take my granddaughter to a warehouse. I was not going to let him win.
I needed a weapon.
I frantically searched my purse. Lipstick. Tissues. My wallet. A hairbrush. Nothing that could break bulletproof glass. Nothing that could hurt a man twice my size.
Then my hand brushed against something heavy and cold at the bottom of my bag.
The brass key.
The spare house key with the faded blue rubber cover that Ethan had given back to me at the dinner table.
It wasn't a weapon. But it was sharp.
The driver slowed the SUV as we approached a chain-link gate at the entrance of an abandoned industrial park. He rolled down his window and reached out to punch a code into the keypad.
It was now or never.
“Ellie,” I whispered, my lips pressed directly against her ear. “When I open the door, you run into the trees and don't look back. Understand?”
She nodded, tears streaming down her face.
I gripped the brass key, pushing the metal tip through the fabric of my purse so it protruded like a small, jagged blade.
As the gate slowly began to roll open, the driver shifted the car into drive.
I didn't think. I just moved.
I lunged forward, throwing my entire body over the center console. Before the driver could react, I slammed the jagged edge of the key directly into the side of his neck.
He roared in pain, his hands flying off the steering wheel. The SUV jerked forward, smashing into the heavy iron gate. The airbags didn't deploy, but the impact threw me backward into the seats.
The driver was clutching his bleeding neck, cursing violently. He reached for his holster.
I scrambled back, kicking the center console panel as hard as I could. The plastic cracked. I reached over, my hand wildly searching the driver's door panel until I found the master unlock button.
CLICK.
“Run, Ellie!” I screamed, shoving the back door open.
Ellie tumbled out into the freezing rain. I scrambled after her, my knees scraping against the wet gravel.
A gunshot shattered the night, deafening in the confined space of the car. The bullet blew out the back window, raining safety glass over my shoulders.
I grabbed Ellie’s hand and pulled her into the thick, dark woods lining the industrial park. We ran blindly through the trees, branches tearing at my nice navy dress, mud ruining my shoes. I didn't care. I just kept pulling her forward, my lungs burning, the rain blinding us.
Behind us, I heard the driver crashing through the brush, shouting.
“You can’t hide, old woman!” he yelled.
We crouched behind a massive, fallen oak tree. I pulled Ellie flush against my chest, covering her mouth with my hand so her sobbing wouldn't make a sound.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel mere yards away. A flashlight beam swept over the trees, illuminating the falling rain like silver needles.
The beam washed over the log where we were hiding. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to Frank, to God, to anyone who would listen.
Then, the woods lit up with blinding, high-beam headlights.
Tires roared on the wet road. A massive black truck slammed into the side of the driver's SUV, crushing it against the iron gate with a deafening crunch of metal.
The driver spun around, raising his gun.
Three men stepped out of the truck. They didn't shout. They didn't ask questions. They just raised their weapons and fired.
The driver dropped to the ground, motionless.
I stayed frozen behind the log, too terrified to move. Had Thorne’s men come to finish the job?
Footsteps approached our hiding spot. The flashlight beam fell on my face.
“Mrs. Bennett?” a deep voice asked.
I looked up, squinting through the blinding light.
It was Gabriel’s head of security, the man with the scarred jaw. He lowered his gun and offered me a massive, gloved hand.
“Mr. Moretti realized there was a rat in the transport detail,” the man said gently. “He sent us to find you. Are you hurt?”
May you like
I took his hand, shaking so hard my teeth chattered. “We’re okay. But the box… the box isn't at the bus station.”
The guard frowned. “We know. Mr. Moretti is already heading to the diner. And so is Thorne.”
