Page 51 of No Escape

Will stepped closer to the window, careful to remain out of sight of the reporters. He squinted as he tried to make out the cause of the disturbance. It was then that he spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Tom, Valerie’s fiancé.

Will’s heart dropped. “Oh no,” he muttered under his breath. “Charlie, it’s Tom. Valerie’s fiancé.”

Charlie rushed to the window to get a better look, concern etched on his face. “What’s he doing here? This is the last place he should be.”

Will shook his head, his mind racing. “He must have heard about Valerie being in trouble and decided to come down here to try and help. But he’s just putting himself in danger.”

The two investigators exchanged worried glances, knowing that Tom’s presence could complicate their mission even further. They needed to get him to leave, but with the reporters and police surrounding the house, it wouldn’t be an easy task.

“We have to get him out of here,” Charlie said, determination in his voice. “He’s only going to muddy the waters.”

Will nodded, his resolve strengthening. “Agreed. Let’s figure out a way to get Tom away from here without attracting too much attention. The less the press focuses on Valerie’s personal life the better.”

Will and Charlie steeled themselves before they stepped out of Alex Murphy’s house, prepared to face the sea of reporters. As soon as they stepped outside, the frenzy escalated, and the reporters began shouting questions and snapping photos.

Amidst the chaos, they heard Tom’s voice cutting through the noise. “Will! Charlie! Over here!”

Tom was surrounded by reporters, their microphones shoved in his face as they bombarded him with questions. “Mr. Evans, do you know who Valerie Law will attack next? How can you defend someone like her?”

Tom’s expression was one of pure frustration, but his voice remained steady as he defended Valerie. “You’ve got it all wrong. Valerie is the best person I’ve ever known. She’s dedicated her life to protecting people, not hurting them. You’ve got her all wrong!”

Will and Charlie pushed through the crowd, doing their best to shield Tom from the relentless journalists. They managed to reach him and quickly ushered him away from the house and toward their car.

“Come on, Tom,” Charlie urged, his voice barely audible above the clamor of the reporters. “We need to get you out of here.”

As they reached the car, the reporters continued their pursuit, eager for any scrap of information they could get. Will unlocked the car and practically threw Tom into the back seat, while Charlie jumped into the driver’s seat. Will hurriedly climbed into the passenger seat, and Charlie started the engine.

With a squeal of tires, they sped off, leaving the reporters behind in a cloud of dust. As they put distance between themselves and the chaos, Will couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. But the danger wasn’t over yet—they still had to find John Murphy and protect the rest of his family. And now they had Tom to worry about, too.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

The night was oppressive, its darkness seeping into every corner of the house. The air felt heavy, and a sinister silence hung in the shadows. John Murphy crouched behind an old, worn armchair in the living room, his pulse quickening with anticipation.

The police guard assigned to protect the house lay unconscious and tightly bound in the hallway. His eyes were covered by a strip of black cloth, and his mouth was gagged with a wad of fabric. Despite his best efforts, the officer’s shallow breaths betrayed his fear.

John had slipped into the house like a ghost, barely making a sound as he’d incapacitated the guard. Now, he was poised to strike, the rope coiled tightly in his hand. He was a creature of the shadows, a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on his prey.

I am justice, he thought.

As the hours ticked by, the tension in the house grew thicker, suffocating every breath. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to grow louder, its incessant rhythm drilling into John’s skull. His nerves were on edge, but he remained as still as a statue, his focus unwavering.

Finally, the moment he’d been waiting for arrived. The front door creaked open, its hinges groaning in protest. A tired figure stepped into the house, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows.

John’s heart raced as the victim set down their bag and kicked off their shoes, their movements weary and slow. The door closed with a soft click, and they took a few steps into the dimly lit room.

In a flash, John sprang from his hiding spot, the rope unfurling like a viper ready to strike. His eyes were locked onto the victim, and as the rope cut through the air, he knew there would be no escape.

With a surge of adrenaline, John tightened the rope around the victim’s neck, his muscles straining as he pulled it taut. The victim’s eyes widened in panic, their breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. They clawed at the rope, their nails digging into their own skin, but it was no use. John’s grip was unrelenting, and within moments, the victim’s struggles weakened and their body went limp.

But John didn’t finish the job. He had other plans for this one. Carefully, he lowered the unconscious body onto his shoulder, making sure the rope remained in place. With expert precision, he bound their arms and gagged their mouth before slipping out of the house undetected. Then he looked outside to see if any living thing was watching.

Nothingness was there.

Another gift from above, he thought.

He left the house, his quarry unconscious and bound over his shoulder.

The night seemed to swallow him whole as he approached the stolen car, its dark exterior blending seamlessly into the shadows. He popped the trunk and was greeted by the terrified eyes of the car’s owner, still bound and gagged from their earlier encounter. The man tried to scream through his gag, but the sound was muffled and weak.

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