Page 83 of Fatal Fame
Too slow.
She spotted the stairwell and changed direction, taking the stairs three at a time.
Anita reachedfor the pillow beside Gideon's head, her movements calm and deliberate despite the increasing urgency of the situation. The blogger's eyes tracked her motion, understanding flooding across his features as he realized what was about to happen.
She pressed the pillow down over his face, using her body weight to ensure proper coverage. The monitoring equipment exploded into a cacophony of alarms as Gideon's oxygen levels plummeted and his heart rate spiked toward dangerous levels.
The door burst open.
"Get away from him!"
Anita spun toward the voice, seeing Mia silhouetted in the doorway, her face flushed from running. Behind her, security guards appeared, breathing heavily from their pursuit.
For a moment, the room froze, a corrupt sergeant caught in the act, the determined teenager who'd uncovered too much truth, and security personnel trying to process a scene that made no immediate sense.
Then Anita's training took over.
It all happened so fast. She drew her service weapon in one smooth motion, the Glock 22 clearing its holster with speed. Herfirst shot took the lead security guard in the chest, the .40 caliber round spinning him backward into the corridor wall.
The second guard dove for cover as Anita swung the weapon toward Mia, her finger tightening on the trigger.
The room's observation window exploded inward in a shower of tempered glass as bullets punched through from the corridor. Anita stumbled backward, crimson blooming across her uniform shirt as rounds found their target.
Mia turned to see Callie advancing, her service weapon extended in a perfect Weaver stance, smoke still trailing from the barrel.
"Down! Everyone down!" Callie shouted, sweeping the room for additional threats while keeping her weapon trained on Anita's fallen form.
She grabbed Mia's good arm and pulled her into the corridor, away from the immediate danger zone. Her radio crackled to life as she keyed the microphone clipped to her chest rig.
"Central, this is Unit Seven. Officer down, shots fired, Adirondack Medical Center third floor ICU. Need immediate backup."
She released Mia and moved back into the room, approaching the wounded security guard first. He was conscious, clutching his chest where the bullet had struck his vest, gasping but alive.
"Get me a nurse!" Callie shouted into the corridor. "Now!"
Medical personnel flooded into the area, their professional training overriding the chaos as they attended to the wounded guard. Callie moved to where Anita lay sprawled beside Gideon's bed, her service weapon still covering the fallen sergeant.
Anita's eyes were open, blood frothing at the corners of her mouth as punctured lungs struggled to function. She looked up at Callie with the resigned expression of someone who knew their time was nearly over.
"I didn't have a choice," Anita whispered, her voice barely audible above the medical equipment's alarms. "My mother needed help."
The words came out in a rush of blood and final breath, confession and explanation wrapped in the last moments of consciousness. Her eyes fixed on something beyond the ceiling, beyond the immediate reality of the hospital room, then she went still.
Sergeant Emerson died surrounded by the chaos she'd created, some of her secrets finally exposed but her full motivations remaining as mysterious as the decade-long conspiracy she'd helped maintain.
The monitoring equipment continued its urgent beeping, medical staff worked frantically over the wounded security guard, and somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed as backup units responded to the scene.
But in the sudden stillness that followed violence, Mia understood that they'd uncovered only part of the truth. Anita's final words suggested layers of corruption and coercion that went far beyond a single rogue officer, secrets that stretched back through years of covered-up evidence and buried investigations.
The real question wasn't who Anita Emerson had been, but who she'd been protecting, and whether that person was still out there, still pulling strings, still willing to kill to keep the truth buried.
That investigation was far from over.
30
The sun hung low over High Peaks Lake, casting golden ribbons across the water as autumn leaves drifted down like confetti from the maple trees that lined the Sutherland property. Noah made his way down the worn wooden steps to the dock, his shoulders heavy with the weight of a day that had started with hope and ended with gunfire in a hospital corridor.
He found Ethan sitting at the end of the dock, his feet dangling over the edge, earbuds trailing wires to the phone in his lap. He didn't notice his father's approach until Noah tapped him gently on the shoulder.
