Chapter 7
My blood turned to ice.
“Mia,” I said, my voice sharp, urgent. “Lock the door. Lock every door and window. Hide Lily in the closet. The cops are already on their way. They know where you live. They’ll be there in five minutes. Do not open the door for anyone except them. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Mia said, her voice shaking. I heard a loud bang in the background, like someone was kicking the front door. “Hurry, Vivian. Please. He’s crazy.”
The line went dead.
Daniel was already grabbing his keys, running for the front door. Margaret followed, grabbing the heavy brass fireplace poker from the hearth. I ran after them, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. Lily was there. My baby. And Ryan had a knife.
We drove to Mia’s house in eight minutes flat, running every red light, sirens wailing behind us the whole way. Three police cars passed us on the highway, lights flashing, heading the same direction.
Mia’s street was full of cops when we got there.
They had the whole block cordoned off, yellow crime scene tape strung between the trees. Ryan was standing on Mia’s front porch, holding Lily tight against his chest, a large kitchen knife pressed to her throat. Lily was sobbing, her face streaked with tears, her rabbit lying discarded on the porch step.
Mia was standing by the front door, her hands up, talking to him in a calm, steady voice, trying to keep him distracted.
“Let her go, Ryan,” a SWAT officer yelled through a megaphone. “Put the knife down. There’s no way out. We have you surrounded.”
Ryan laughed, a wild, hysterical sound. He pressed the knife harder against Lily’s throat. A small trickle of blood ran down her neck. I screamed, trying to run toward him, but two cops held me back.
“Back off!” Ryan yelled, his eyes wild. “All of you! Back off! Or I’ll kill her! I swear to God I will! She’s my blood! I can do whatever I want with her!”
Daniel stepped forward, his hands up, his voice calm.
“Ryan,” he said. “It’s me. Your brother. Let her go. Please. She’s just a kid. She didn’t do anything to you. Whatever you want, whatever you need, we can work it out. Just let Lily go.”
“Work it out?” Ryan screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. “You think I’m stupid? I saw the cops take the hard drive! I know you have the footage! My life is over! I’m going to prison for the rest of my life! If I’m going down, I’m taking something you love with me!”
He raised the knife over his head.
Time slowed down.
I saw the blade glint in the sun. I saw Lily close her eyes, her small face tight with fear. I saw Daniel lunge forward, too far away to reach him in time. I saw the SWAT officer raise his rifle, his finger on the trigger.
Then Margaret stepped out from behind the police line.
She didn’t have her hands up. She didn’t yell. She just walked slowly up the porch steps, her head high, her eyes locked on her son’s.
“Ryan,” she said, her voice clear, steady, the voice she’d used when he was a little boy and he’d scraped his knee. “Put the knife down. Now.”
Ryan froze. The knife wavered in his hand.
“Mom?” he said, his voice cracking. “What are you doing here? They’re going to take me away. They’re going to lock me up forever. You have to help me. You’re my mom.”
Margaret stopped three feet away from him. She looked at Lily, scared and crying in his arms, then back at her son. Her face was hard, no trace of the soft, loving mother she’d once been.
“You are not my son,” she said, her voice cold as ice. “A son would never hurt his own grandmother. A son would never threaten a five-year-old little girl. You are a monster. And I have no son.”
She took a step closer.
“Put the knife down,” she said again. “Or I swear to God, I will be the one to pull the trigger myself. You will not hurt that little girl. Not while I’m breathing.”
Ryan stared at her, his mouth open, shocked. For a split second, his grip on Lily loosened.
Daniel lunged.
He grabbed Lily, yanking her out of Ryan’s arms, and jumped back down the steps, rolling on the grass to shield her. Two SWAT officers tackled Ryan onto the porch, slamming his face into the wood, yanking the knife out of his hand and slapping cuffs on him before he could even scream.
I ran to Lily.
Daniel handed her to me, her small body shaking, the cut on her neck shallow but bleeding. I held her as tight as I could, rocking her, whispering over and over that she was safe, that it was over, that no one would ever hurt her again.
Ryan was dragged past us a minute later, his face scraped and bleeding, screaming curses at all of us. He yelled that he’d get out, that he’d make us pay, that we’d regret this. Margaret just stood on the porch, watching him go, her face blank, no tears left to cry.
The paramedics checked Lily’s cut, putting a small butterfly bandage on it. They said she’d be fine, physically. The rest would take time.
We sat on Mia’s front lawn for an hour after that, holding each other, while the cops processed the scene. Lily fell asleep in my arms, exhausted, her face pressed against my chest.
It was over.
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Ryan was in jail. He’d never hurt anyone again.
We’d won.
