“How long have you known?” she demanded.
“Long enough,” I said, “to document everything.”
Mark broke down.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I never wanted—”
“Quiet,” Sabrina snapped. “He’s heard it all.”
She took a step forward, lifting the object slightly, enough for its metallic glint to stretch across the room like a warning.
“You won’t remain here much longer,” she whispered. “And this time, no altitude and no strangers will intervene.”
My thumb pressed the panic button.
The Rescue
The house erupted with noise: fists pounding the front door, voices shouting through speakers.
“Tucson Police Department! Open the door!”
Lights flashed outside.
Boots thundered up the stairs.
“Drop it!” an officer yelled as they burst into my room.
For a moment, Sabrina froze, calculating.
Then two officers tackled her before she took a single step closer.
Mark sank to the floor, hands raised, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.”
Within minutes, they were both handcuffed and escorted out.
Sabrina threw one last look over her shoulder, her eyes full of quiet, simmering hatred.
“This isn’t over,” she whispered.
But it was.