Chapter 6 - The Fight on the Edge
I turned back immediately, picking up a heavy decorative stone lining the garden path.
Victor was pinning Kathleen to the ground, his hand wrapped around her throat as he reached into his jacket pocket for something else.
"Get off my daughter!" I roared, swinging the stone with every ounce of strength my sixty-two-year-old body possessed, slamming it directly into Victor’s shoulder.
He screamed, releasing Kathleen and whirling around to strike me across the face with his open hand. The force of the blow sent me sprawling onto the cold grass, my vision swimming with bright white flashes of light.
"Mom!" Kathleen cried out, crawling toward me.
Victor stood over us, panting heavily, his tuxedo jacket torn, his hair wild. He pulled a heavy leather-wrapped stun baton from his inner pocket, the tip crackling with a terrifying blue arc of electricity.
"I’m done being patient," Victor growled, his face twisted into something demonic in the moonlight. "Sign the transfer authorization, Kathleen, or I make sure your mother doesn't walk away from this cliff."
"Don't do it, Kathleen," I gasped, holding my bruised cheek, struggling to sit up. "Don't sign anything."
"Shut her up, Vic!" Julian yelled, staggering out of the pine grove, rubbing his bruised chest. He had retrieved his gun from the rocks. "The cops are coming! I hear sirens in the distance!"
Faint, wailing red-and-blue echoes were indeed rising from the coastal highway two miles away, cutting through the dark night air.
Panic fully seized Victor. He grabbed Kathleen by her hair, pulling her up against the wooden railing of the cliff overlook.
"Sign it!" he screamed, thrusting the pen and the document into her face. "Sign it now!"
Kathleen looked at the paper, then at the crackling stun gun, and then at me lying bruised on the grass.
"Okay! Okay! I'll sign!" she wept, taking the pen with trembling fingers.
"No, Kathleen!" I pleaded.
Victor smiled—a sick, triumphant grin as he pointed the paper toward her.
Kathleen leaned over the paper, holding the pen above the signature line. She looked Victor straight in the eyes, her tears suddenly stopping, replaced by a cold, fierce glare that mirrored my own.
"My dad taught me how to handle trash like you," she whispered.
Instead of signing the document, Kathleen jammed the sharp metal tip of the heavy fountain pen directly into Victor’s forearm with absolute force.
Victor let out a blood-curdling shriek of pain, dropping the document folder and the stun gun. He instinctively reeled back, clutching his bleeding arm.
At that exact second, the bright, blinding beams of high-powered spotlights pierced through the pine trees, illuminating the entire cliffside in stark, white light.
"STATE POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! GET ON THE GROUND NOW!"
A chorus of authoritative voices boomed through bullhorns. Heavy boots thundered down the trail as armed state troopers poured out of the woods, their tactical rifles aimed directly at Victor and Julian.
Julian dropped his gun instantly, throwing his hands in the air and falling to his knees on the gravel.
Victor, half-blinded by the searchlights and screaming in pain, backed up against the low wooden railing of the pavilion. He looked around wildly, realizing he was completely surrounded by half a dozen officers with drawn weapons.
"Hands where we can see them!" a sharp voice commanded. It was Officer David Miller—Sarah’s brother-in-law—leading the tactical team. "Step away from the women!"
Victor looked at the police, then at the blood dripping from his arm, and finally at Kathleen and me. His grand, multi-million-dollar deception had completely shattered on the rocks of his own arrogance.
Slowly, bitterly, Victor raised his hands into the air.
Troopers rushed forward, shoving Victor to the ground, pulling his arms behind his back, and snapping cold steel handcuffs over his wrists. Another team secured Julian, dragging him back down the trail.
David dropped to one knee beside us, his face pale with concern. "Lucy! Kathleen! Are you two alright?"
May you like
Kathleen collapsed into my arms, sobbing hysterically as the adrenaline finally crashed out of her system. I pulled my daughter tightly against my chest, holding her head, feeling her warm breath against my neck.
"We're okay, David," I whispered, tears finally streaming down my own face as I looked up at the stars above the ocean. "We're okay."
