Chapter 2 - The Escape into the Fog
The service alley smelled of damp stone and discarded rosemary from the estate gardens. I slammed the heavy oak door behind me and jammed the iron bolt into place just as Brandon slammed his shoulder against the opposite side.
BOOM!
"Victoria! Open this door!" Brandon screamed, his voice muffled through the three-inch-thick oak. "You won't make it to the main road! Margaret is already calling estate security! They’ll say you were trespassing! They’ll say you fell!"
"Let them call!" I shouted back, coughing as a spasm of pain shot through my bruised ribs. "Every police officer in this county knows who owns this drive now, Brandon!"
I didn't lose another second. I limped heavily down the narrow gravel lane that led toward the estate’s eastern perimeter fence. My right knee was swollen inside my jeans, each step feeling like grinding glass, but the adrenaline surging through my bloodstream kept the shock at bay.
The Carter estate spanned forty acres of prime hill country outside Austin. It was surrounded by an eight-foot wrought-iron fence, but I knew every inch of the grounds. For three years, while Brandon was out at high-stakes poker tables in Las Vegas and Margaret was presiding over country club galas, I had spent my weekends walking these grounds alone, documenting the quiet rot beneath the family's glittering facade.
Near the old stone greenhouse at the edge of the woods, there was a gap in the perimeter wall where a falling oak branch had crushed the iron pikes two months ago. Brandon had delayed fixing it to save money—a small, pathetic detail of his greed that was now going to save my life.
Sirens began to wail in the distance—not the police, but the private security patrol hired by Carter Enterprises. Headlights swept across the tree line behind me, cutting through the gathering evening mist.
"Search the eastern woods!" I heard Margaret’s voice booming over a megaphone from the second-floor balcony. "She’s injured! She couldn't have gone far! Find her and secure her personal belongings before the state troopers arrive!"
I squeezed my body through the narrow gap in the broken iron fence, the sharp metal edges tearing into the sleeve of my jacket, scraping my arm. I tumbled down the muddy embankment on the other side, landing hard in the tall grass of the public county road.
I clutched the silver USB drive tightly in my right fist, holding it against my chest like a talisman.
A quarter-mile down the dark, unlit road, the yellow headlights of a lone pickup truck cut through the thick fog. I stumbled into the middle of the asphalt, waving my left arm frantically above my head.
The truck’s brakes squealed against the pavement, stopping less than ten feet from where I stood shaking. The driver’s side door swung open, and an elderly man with a weathered face and a worn baseball cap stepped out, holding a heavy flashlight.
"Grandma’s light, girl!" the man gasped, shining the light on my bloody face, my torn clothes, and my swollen knee. "What happened to you? Did you get hit by a car?!"
"Please..." I choked out, my strength finally evaporating as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving me trembling violently in the cold air. "Please... get me away from this fence. Carter estate... they tried to kill me."
The man looked up toward the dark gates of the Carter property, where three private security SUVs were pulling up to the perimeter, searchlights sweeping the trees. His expression hardened. He recognized the Carter logo on the vehicles—and he clearly knew the reputation of the family that owned them.
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"Get in," the old man said firmly, opening the passenger door. "My name is Sam. I run the farm down in the valley. You're safe now, kiddo."
As I collapsed into the warm cab of the truck, Sam slammed the gas pedal, and the pickup sped away into the foggy darkness, leaving the flickering searchlights of Carter Enterprises behind in the rearview mirror.
