Chapter 5 - The Frame-Up
Clara threw her weight against the wooden door handle, but it wouldn't budge.
"Open the door!" she screamed, pounding her fists against the heavy wood.
Toby began to cry softly from the center of the large bed.
"The bad lady is locked with us," the boy whimpered, pointing at the closet.
Clara turned her head slowly toward the shadowy closet space.
The coats hanging inside began to rustle softly as if pushed by someone.
A pair of heavy leather boots stepped out into the light.
It was a tall man clad in black tactical gear, his face covered by a mask.
He held an antique diamond necklace dripping with sparkling gems in his hand.
"This belonged to the late Mrs. Morrison," the masked man said in a deep voice.
He tossed the multi-million dollar necklace onto Clara’s bed mat.
"When the police arrive, they will find this in your possession," he said quietly.
"Nanny number six, caught red-handed poisoning a child to steal family jewels."
"Who sent you?!" Clara demanded, backing toward the locked window.
"Who are you working for?!"
The intruder pulled a heavy silenced pistol from his side holster.
"The dead don't like visitors in their home," he said smoothly, raising the weapon.
"And Julianne wants her family back."
Suddenly, the heavy bedroom door was blown inward with a shattering boom.
Mr. Morrison burst into the room, holding a heavy iron fireplace poker.
He swung the heavy iron bar directly at the intruder's head with terrifying speed.
The masked man blocked the strike with his arm, sending sparks into the air.
"Clara, grab Toby and run!" Mr. Morrison bellowed, his eyes burning with fury.
Clara didn't hesitate for a single second.
She scooped Toby up into her arms and scrambled past the fighting men.
She sprinted out into the dark hallway as loud gunshots echoed behind her.
As she reached the top of the grand stairs, flashing red and blue police lights illuminated the glass entryway below.
Two police officers were already breaking through the front glass doors with guns drawn.
"Freeze! Police!" a loud voice boomed from the foyer below.
"Clara Vance, drop the child and put your hands behind your head!"
Clara stood frozen at the top of the stairs, trapped between the police below and the gunfight behind her.
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She looked down at her jacket pocket and realized something horrifying.
Someone had slipped a bloody knife into her pocket while she was running.
