Chapter 4 - Blood on the Bluff
The wet, sickening crunch of Daniel Mercer’s nose breaking echoed across the stone courtyard.
Daniel howled in agony, his head snapping back as blood sprayed across his pristine white linen shirt. His grip on Hannah’s wrist tore away, and the semi-automatic pistol in his right hand wavered.
"Hannah, down!" I roared.
Hannah dropped instantly to the flagstones, covering her head just like I had taught her during our childhood storms in the basement.
Daniel stumbled backward, clutching his ruined nose with one hand while desperately trying to level his weapon at my chest with the other. He never got the chance.
Four years of Army combatives kicked in with zero hesitation. In three explosive strides, I closed the distance between us. Before Daniel could align his sights, my left hand shot out, clamping around the cylinder and slide of his pistol, forcing the barrel skyward. With my right palm, I struck him beneath the chin with an open-palm heel thrust that rattled his teeth and snapped his head back against the stone pillar behind him.
The gun tore free from his grip, clattering across the patio. Daniel dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, coughing blood onto his designer loafers.
"On your stomach!" I ordered, pressing my combat boot firmly between his shoulder blades, pinning him flat against the stone floor. "Move an inch and I will put you to sleep!"
Behind me, the private security guard who had drawn his weapon earlier dropped his gun onto the driveway and threw his hands into the air. Sergeant Miller stood over him, weapon lowered but ready, pulling zip-ties from his tactical belt to secure the guard’s wrists behind his back.
"Threat neutralized," Miller announced calmly. "Clear."
I didn't look down at Daniel Mercer again. He was groaning, whimpering into the stone, the arrogant prince of Cedar Ridge reduced to a bleeding mess at my feet.
I took my boot off his back, turned, and fell to my knees beside Hannah.
Hannah was still curled in a ball, her shoulders shaking violently with silent sobs. She slowly lowered her hands from her face, looking up through tear-blurred eyes at the uniform, at the nametag reading *COLE*, and finally at my face.
"Becca?" she sobbed, reaching out a trembling hand to touch my cheek, right where my mother had slapped me an hour earlier. "You're... you're really here? You're not in a cell?"
"I’m here, baby," I whispered, my voice breaking for the first time all day. "I'm right here. Nobody is ever locking you up again. Nobody is ever hurting you again."
Hannah threw her arms around my neck with such ferocious force that she nearly knocked me over. She buried her face into the collar of my Army combat uniform, weeping with a guttural, soul-deep agony that had been locked inside her chest for four long years.
"They told me you were gone," Hannah cried, her fingernails digging into the fabric of my back. "They told me you stole from Dad... they said if I didn't do what Daniel said, they'd make sure the guards hurt you... they said you hated me for staying behind..."
"They lied to you, Hannah," I said, holding her tightly, resting my chin against the top of her head as my own tears finally fell. "Every single word they told you was a lie. I tried to write to you. I tried to call. They sent everything back. But I never forgot my promise. I told you I'd come back for you."
Brooke Hayes ran up the porch steps, dropping to her knees beside us, throwing her arms around both of us. The three of us knelt there on the stone porch of the Mercer mansion, tangled together in tears, while the afternoon sun began to dip behind the tree line.
A low drone of sirens began to echo from County Road 9.
Within ninety seconds, three dark Chevrolet Suburbans bearing federal law enforcement plates, followed by two state trooper cruisers, barreled through the ruined wrought-iron gates of Blackwood Bluff.
Colonel James Whitmore stepped out of the lead Suburban, flanked by four heavily armed federal marshals. He took in the scene with a single sweeping glance: the broken gates, the zip-tied security guard, Daniel Mercer groaning in a pool of his own blood on the porch, and me holding my sister.
Whitmore walked up the steps, looking down at Daniel Mercer.
"Mr. Mercer," Whitmore said, his voice dripping with icy contempt. "I see you've already met Sergeant Cole."
Daniel rolled onto his side, his face covered in blood, his eyes swollen. "My father... my father will have your badges! You broke into my house! She assaulted me! Look at my face!"
"Your father, Mayor Richard Mercer, was placed in federal custody twenty-five minutes ago at Town Hall," Whitmore stated calmly, gesturing to the marshals behind him. "He has been formally indicted on thirty-two counts of wire fraud, racketeering, bribery, and conspiracy to defraud the Department of Defense. And as for you, Mr. Mercer..."
Whitmore pulled a thick stack of papers from his jacket.
"You are under arrest for federal procurement fraud, witness tampering, extortion, kidnapping, and assault on a federal officer. Take him into custody."
Two federal marshals grabbed Daniel by his arms, hauling him violently to his feet. Daniel screamed in pain as his dislocated nose shifted, thrashing against their grip as the steel cuffs snapped onto his wrists.
"Rebecca!" Daniel screamed, his voice wild with desperate malice as they dragged him down the steps toward the waiting transport van. "You think you won?! Your father signed the papers! Your father sold you out to save his own skin! You have nothing! You hear me?! You have nothing!"
The van doors slammed shut, cutting off his venomous screaming.
Hannah was still trembling against my side, watching the van with wide, traumatized eyes. "Becca... what did he mean? What did Dad do?"
I looked at Colonel Whitmore. The Colonel gave me a solemn, sorrowful nod.
"Hannah," I said gently, taking her face in both of my hands. "There are some things you need to know about our family. Things they hid from both of us. But we are going to face it together. Okay?"
Hannah swallowed hard, wiped her tears, and took a deep breath. She looked at Brooke, then at Sergeant Miller, and finally back at me.
"Okay," Hannah whispered. "Where are we going?"
May you like
"We're going to Brooke's house," I said. "And then we're going to tear down every lie they ever told about us."
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