Chapter 7 - The Cavalry on the Water
Before Richard could give the order to fire, the heavy glass windows of the boathouse exploded in a shower of glittering shards.
Three flashbang grenades detonated simultaneously across the catwalk, filling the wooden structure with blinding white light and concussive sound.
The guard with the rifle screamed, dropping his weapon and tumbling twenty feet into the deep water below.
"State Police! Drop your weapons!" an amplified voice roared through the shattered windows.
Two tactical law enforcement patrol boats surged out of the fog, their heavy spotlights illuminating the boathouse like a football stadium.
Richard threw himself onto the dusty floorboards, scrambling for the dropped handgun in the shadows.
"Mark, down!" Lauren screamed, throwing her weight against my shoulder as gunfire erupted from the perimeter.
I rolled behind the heavy iron workbench, pulling Lauren down beside me as tactical officers breached the side doors.
Richard scrambled toward the exterior boat slip, firing two wild shots behind him into the dark.
"He's heading for the water!" I yelled to the lead officer, who was sweeping the room with an MP5 submachine gun.
I didn't wait for the officers; the rage that had been building inside me for months propelled me forward across the broken glass.
I vaulted over the wooden railing onto the dock, the freezing spray from the lake hitting my face as the wind whipped through the trees.
Richard was desperately untying the mooring line of our father’s antique wooden mahogany speedboat, his hands bloody from the splintered rope.
"It's over, Richard!" I yelled, stepping onto the slippery dock, my gun trained directly on his chest.
Richard turned, his eyes wide and wild, holding a small snub-nosed revolver he had pulled from his ankle holster.
"I am the eldest!" he screamed, his voice breaking into a shrill, hysterical shriek. "It was all supposed to be mine!"
He raised the barrel toward my head.
I didn't hesitate; I fired once, the bullet striking his right shoulder with surgical precision.
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The revolver flew from his hand, splashing into the dark water, and Richard collapsed against the mahogany stern, groaning in agony.
Behind me, four state troopers rushed onto the dock, pinning him to the deck and securing his arms in heavy steel handcuffs.
