Chapter 6 - The Trap at Miller’s Creek
Rain began to pour at 3:00 AM, beating heavily against the windshield of Detective Vance’s unmarked SUV as we parked along the dark ridge overlooking Miller’s Creek. Heavy pine trees swayed in the wind, framing the rotting wooden roof of the old abandoned boathouse near the water’s edge.
Mark sat in the passenger seat, his hands clenching and unclenching on his knees. I sat in the back, holding a decoy infant bundle wrapped securely in a yellow baby blanket. Emma was safe back at the precinct house under the care of two female officers.
"Remember the plan," Vance instructed, adjusting his tactical vest. "Mark goes in first with the decoy bundle. I'll be fifty yards behind him with the entry team. Clara, you stay inside the vehicle no matter what happens."
"No," I said firmly, meeting Vance’s eyes in the rearview mirror. "Evelyn expects me to be there. She knows I wouldn't let Mark carry that baby anywhere alone after what happened in the nursery. If I'm not beside him, she'll know it's a trap and she'll run."
Vance hesitated, looking at the fresh butterfly bandage on my cheek, then nodded slowly. "Fine. But you stay two steps behind Mark at all times. The moment we breach, hit the deck."
We stepped out into the freezing rain, our boots sinking into the thick mud as we approached the wooden doors of the boathouse. The only light came from a single yellow bulb hanging over the dock entrance.
Mark pushed the heavy door open. It creaked loudly on rusty hinges.
Inside, the air smelled of mold, gasoline, and wet wood. Standing near an old wooden workbench at the far end of the room was Chloe, holding a heavy iron tire iron in her hand. Beside her sat a dark-suited man holding a leather briefcase—the foreign coordinator.
Standing on the raised catwalk above them was our mother, Evelyn.
"You brought the baby," Evelyn said, stepping down the wooden stairs, her eyes fixed on the yellow blanket in my arms. "Good. Put the bundle on the workbench and step back."
"Where are the documents framing me?" Mark demanded, taking two steps forward, keeping himself positioned in front of me.
"They're right here," the man in the suit said, tapping his briefcase. "Once we verify the infant, the drive is yours."
Chloe stepped toward me, reaching out with her free hand to pull back the blanket. "Give her to me, Clara."
"No," I said, stepping back, looking directly into Chloe’s eyes. "I took those scissors away from you once, Chloe. You're never touching this child again."
Chloe sneered, raising the tire iron. "You always thought you were better than me!"
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Before she could strike, I threw the heavy decoy bundle directly into her face. The blanket unravelled, revealing a heavy sack of flour that burst open on impact, coating Chloe’s eyes and face in a blinding cloud of white powder.
"Police! Don't move!" Vance yelled as the side doors shattered inward, flashbang grenades detonating with deafening cracks of light and sound.
