Chapter 8 - The Turning Point
Adrenaline is a remarkable chemical. In a split second, time seemed to dilate.
As Marcus lunged forward, swinging the tire iron in a wild arc aimed at my head, I didn't try to block it with my arms. Instead, I ducked beneath the swing, letting his momentum carry him past me.
Marcus stumbled, his shoulder slamming hard against the concrete foundation wall. He grunted in pain, dropping the tire iron as it clattered loudly against the concrete floor.
Before he could recover his balance, I spun around and drove my fist forward with all the frustration, anger, and protective fury I had bottled up for seven years. My knuckles connected squarely with his jaw.
Marcus staggered backward, his legs tangling in an old wooden crate, and he crashed hard to the floor, completely dazed.
I stood over him, breathing heavily, my fists clenched. For a second, the dark temptation to make him pay for every tear Sarah had cried, for every cold, terrifying moment Lily had endured in the blizzard, flashed through my mind. But I was a healer. I saved lives; I didn't destroy them.
I pulled the department radio from my coat pocket and clicked the transmission button.
"Deputy Vance, this is Nathan Carter. I'm at the Ridge Road house. I have the hard drives, and Marcus Kane is secured in the basement. Send a unit."
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"Copy that, Doctor," Vance’s voice crackled back instantly over the static. "Deputies are five minutes out. Stay put."
Two minutes later, the wail of sirens cut through the mountain air, echoing off the snow-covered pines as patrol cars pulled up outside.
