Chapter 7 - The Ninety-Second ResponseRyan instinctively glanced over his shoulder toward the wooden clock hanging near the pantry.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, his voice trembling with a sudden, creeping dread.
“It’s a 4K motion-activated camera,” I said, my voice cutting through his bravado like a surgeon’s scalpel. “Wired to a secure cloud server and an off-site backup drive. It recorded everything yesterday. The argument. The shove. The boiling broth hitting my skin. Your confession. Patricia telling you to lie to the doctors.”
Patricia’s face drained of color until she looked like a corpse. “She’s bluffing! Ryan, she’s lying!”
“I’m not bluffing,” I said, pulling my tablet out from my maternity bag sitting on the floor and tapping the screen with one finger. “And five minutes before I came downstairs, I sent the raw video file directly to Chief Miller at the St. Jude County Police Department, along with my medical records from Urgent Care.”
Ryan’s hand dropped from my collar as if he had been burned. “Claire... no. You didn't.”
Right on cue, a loud, wailing siren echoed down the quiet suburban street. Then a second one. Then a third.
The sound grew deafeningly loud, stopping right in front of my white picket fence. Red and blue lights flashed through the sheer sheer curtains of the living room windows, painting the walls in rhythm with my pulse.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Heavy fists pounded against the solid oak front door.
“POLICE! OPEN THE DOOR! THIS IS CHIEF MILLER!”
Ryan backed away from me, his knees shaking so violently he nearly tripped over the rug. “Claire... please. Talk to them. Tell them it was a misunderstanding! We can fix this! I’ll sell my business! I’ll do whatever you want!”
“You should have thought about that before you scalded my skin, Ryan,” I said.
Patricia ran toward the front entry, attempting to slide the deadbolt, but Chief Miller didn't wait.
BOOM!
The heavy front door swung open as three armed officers stepped into the foyer with drawn weapons. Chief Miller—a tall, grey-haired man who had been a close friend of my father for twenty years—stepped into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on my heavily bandaged arm and pale face.
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“Claire,” Chief Miller said, his voice deep and authoritative. “Are you alright?”
“I’m safe now, Chief,” I said, pointing toward Ryan and Patricia. “Those are the people who assaulted me.”
