Chapter 16 - Bad Lemonade
"Such a heartwarming little reunion," Mrs. Harris wheezed, her voice whistling through damaged lungs. "Drop the child, Mark."
"Let them go," I said, stepping half a pace in front of Sarah and Emily. "The cops are already on their way. Vance saw the van. She knows about Highway 9."
"Detective Vance is currently arguing with three different jurisdictional commanders about whose territory this is," Mrs. Harris sneered. "By the time they kick that gate open, all three of you will be cold cuts on this floor."
"Why the pool?" Sarah choked out, her voice raw. "Why did you put the cooler in the pool at my house?"
"Because Jason was getting cold feet," Mrs. Harris said coldly. "He wanted out. He hid the hard drive there because he thought he could leverage it against me. But Jason was weak. He always was."
Emily peeked out from behind my coat.
"Mrs. Harris?" Emily whispered.
"Hush, sweetie," the old woman murmured, her finger tightening on the trigger.
"You promised," Emily said, her small voice cutting through the hiss of leaking pipes. "You said if I gave you the shiny key from Mommy’s purse, you’d give me some lemonade."
Mrs. Harris paused for a fraction of a second, her eyes flickering down toward the little girl.
That split-second distraction was all that mattered.
A heavy concrete core drill came flying out of the fog from the upper catwalk, crashing down squarely onto Mrs. Harris's extended arm.
The gunshot went wild, ricocheting off the corrugated metal ceiling with a deafening ping!
Mrs. Harris screamed as the gun clattered into the puddles.
Standing on the steel stairs above, bleeding from a deep scalp wound and holding an empty fire extinguisher, was Dave.
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"Get out!" Dave bellowed from the catwalk. "The roof vents are sealed! Get them out of here, Mark!"
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