Chapter 5 - The Wine Cellar Trap
The climb up the stone drainage chute was agonizing.
Every movement strained my swollen belly, my knees bruised against the rough granite rocks, but Detective Miller remained right behind me, supporting my lower back with his large hand, guiding me step by step through the darkness.
At the top of the chute, a heavy iron grate was pushed open with a loud thud.
Matthias hauled himself out onto the polished flagstone floor of the Dre estate’s famous wine cellar. He turned back instantly, reaching his arms down into the chute to help lift me out onto the floor.
"I've got you, Serena," Matthias whispered gently, pulling me up into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest for a brief second before I pulled back and stood on my own feet. "You're safe."
"We're not safe yet," Miller said, climbing out behind us, his gun raised, sweeping the dark, cavernous cellar lined with thousands of dusty vintage wine bottles.
The cellar was quiet, save for the hum of the humidity control system.
Across the room, standing beside the heavy copper doors of the main electrical closet, was Fiona Vale.
She wasn't holding her clutch anymore. In her hand was a sleek, silver silenced pistol, pointed directly at my chest.
"You really are remarkably persistent, Serena," Fiona said smoothly, stepping out from the shadows, her ivory evening gown stained with soot along the hem. "I suppose being a trauma nurse gives you a high tolerance for chaos."
Matthias stepped straight in front of me, spreading his arms wide to block my body with his own. "Fiona! Put the gun down! It's over! The police have the house surrounded!"
"The police are outside the perimeter, Matthias," Fiona sneered, her finger tightening on the trigger. "And once I cut the backup power lines in this closet, the thermite charge downstairs detonates instantly. I walk out through the service tunnel with the hard drives, and you, your wife, and your unborn child become tragic casualties of an unfortunate industrial gas leak."
"You leave her out of this!" Matthias roared, taking a step toward her.
THWIP.
A silenced gunshot echoed through the cellar.
Matthias gasped, stumbling backward, clutching his shoulder as blood instantly began to seep through the fabric of his white tuxedo shirt. He collapsed against a wooden wine rack, groaning in agony as bottles tumbled to the floor around him, smashing into pool of deep red wine that looked terrifyingly like blood.
"Matthias!" I cried out, dropping to my knees beside him, my nurse's training overriding everything else as my hands pressed firmly against his wound to stem the bleeding.
"Next one goes through your skull, Detective," Fiona warned, shifting her gun toward Miller, who had taken cover behind a heavy oak tasting table. "Drop the weapon, Miller. Now."
Miller hesitated, his eyes darting from the gun pointed at his head to Matthias bleeding on the floor. Slowly, carefully, Miller lowered his sidearm to the flagstone floor, pushing it away with his boot.
"Good boy," Fiona smiled, turning her back to open the heavy copper door of the electrical panel. "Now, let's finish this."
She raised the pistol, aiming it directly at the main breaker switch inside the box.
From the floor beside me, Matthias let out a ragged, desperate cry. With every ounce of strength remaining in his body, he grabbed a heavy, unbroken magnum bottle of 1982 Cabernet from the floor and threw it with all his force.
The heavy glass bottle struck Fiona squarely across the side of her head.
She shrieked in pain, her gun firing wildly into the ceiling as she stumbled sideways, smashing against the copper electrical box.
Miller lunged forward like a lion, tackling Fiona to the stone floor, knocking the gun from her grip, and pinning her arms behind her back with steel handcuffs before she could even draw another breath.
"Clear!" Miller bellowed, pulling Fiona to her feet as she screamed curses at him. "The suspect is secured!"
I looked down at Matthias. His face was gray, his breathing shallow, but his eyes were open, looking up at me with tears spilling down his cheeks.
"Did I... did I do good, Serena?" Matthias whispered weakly, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Did I protect you?"
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I looked at him—at the blood soaking his shirt, at the real, desperate love and regret burning in his eyes—and for the first time that night, a single tear slipped down my cheek.
"Yes, Matthias," I whispered, pressing my folded velvet dress tightly against his wound. "You did good. Now stay awake. Our daughter needs a father who lives long enough to pay for what he's done."
