Chapter 15 - The Siege of Briarwood
The drive up the Hudson River parkway was a blur of siren wails and flashing dashboard lights. State troopers were dispatched, but Briarwood was nestled deep in the Catskill pines, twenty miles from the nearest precinct.
Daniel drove like a madman, his tires squealing around the hairpin mountain turns. My hands shook as I listened to the ringing tone on my phone.
*“Lauren!”* Mrs. Gable’s voice crackled through the speaker, breathless and terrified. *“The power went out five minutes ago! The backup generators didn't kick on! I hear footsteps on the gravel behind the greenhouse!”*
"Mrs. Gable, listen to me!" I shouted, tears of pure terror stinging my eyes. "Take Noah and Lily into Margaret’s safe room in the wine cellar! Bolt the hydraulic door from the inside! Do not open it for anyone except me or Daniel! Do you hear me?!"
*“I’m running, I’m—”*
The line went dead with a burst of static.
"Faster, Daniel! Faster!" I begged, slamming my palm against the dashboard.
Images flashed through my mind: Noah’s tiny hands clutching his wooden train; Lily’s innocent laughter; the dark Christmas Eve when Cole sneered at their burning brows. I had vowed to the heavens and to Margaret’s memory that I would burn the world to ash before I ever let harm touch my children again.
When our car burst through Briarwood’s wrought-iron gates, the electronic barriers hung open, their wires savagely severed. Gravel sprayed as Daniel skidded the car onto the lawn in front of the main house.
The front double doors stood wide open, swinging gently in the mountain breeze.
I didn't wait for Daniel. I grabbed the heavy tire iron from beneath the passenger seat and sprinted up the stone steps.
"Lily! Noah!" I screamed, bursting into the great hall.
The house was cast in eerie shadow. The antique grandfather clock ticked rhythmically in the gloom. On the hardwood floor lay an overturned brass lamp, its glass shade shattered into glittering shards.
From the hallway leading to the basement stairs, a shadow detached itself from the darkness.
A woman stepped into the pale beam of afternoon light streaming through the arched windows. She wore black designer leather, her blond hair pulled back, a pair of surgical gloves on her hands.
Sierra.
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"You always did have impeccable timing, Lauren," Sierra smiled, a manic, desperate glitter in her eyes. In her right hand, she held a set of heavy brass master keys.
***
