Chapter 9 - Blood on the Steering Wheel
Mr. Morrison grabbed the leather journal from the desk and swept Toby up into his left arm.
"Follow me!" he ordered Clara, taking her hand and pulling her through the dark study exit.
They sprinted through a underground utility tunnel that led directly to the detached garage.
Outside, heavy thunder shook the foundations of the mansion as torrential rain battered the asphalt.
Mr. Morrison unlocked a black SUV parked deep inside the darkened structure.
He strapped the sleeping child into the back seat while Clara scrambled into the front passenger side.
Mr. Morrison slid into the driver's seat, jammed the key into the ignition, and slammed on the gas.
The heavy vehicle burst through the wooden garage doors and sped down the winding estate driveway.
"Where are we going?" Clara yelled over the sound of the roaring engine and rain hitting the windshield.
"To the police station in the city, away from my family's paid officers," Mr. Morrison said, his knuckles white on the wheel.
"I didn't kill my wife, Clara," he said, looking at her with raw vulnerability.
"Arthur has been impersonating me for months, trying to drive me insane to claim the family trust."
Suddenly, the steering wheel snapped violently to the left with a loud metallic snap.
The brakes went completely soft beneath Mr. Morrison’s foot, pushing all the way to the floor without slowing down.
"The brake lines!" Mr. Morrison yelled as the car accelerated wildly down the slick mountain road.
"Someone cut the hydraulic fluid lines!"
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Ahead, the sharp cliff curve appeared out of the thick fog and heavy rain.
The heavy SUV shattered the weak metal guardrail and plunged straight into the dark abyss below.
