Chapter 5: The Bomb in the Trunk

“Officer Brooks…” Emily suddenly said. “He… he knew you’d come… this… was a… trap…” Her words sent a chill through me. I stared at her, dread settling in.

Her words were a cold slap. I glanced at her, heart stuttering. Had I just walked into Whitmore’s web? Dammit. Had he played me all along?

I slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a stop at the curb. “What?” My mind raced, trying to piece it together. How deep did this go?

The seatbelt dug into my chest. I twisted around, searching her face for answers. The city lights flickered through the windshield, casting everything in harsh relief. I needed to know.

Emily squeezed her eyes shut in pain. “The cameras… weren’t jammed… he… saw you…” My blood ran cold. I’d been so sure. My tech, my plan—worthless.

The realization crashed over me, sharp and cold. I’d been so sure of my tech, so confident. But Whitmore had been watching the whole time, letting me think I was in control. My stomach twisted with dread. I’d walked right into his trap.

My heart sank. That meant Whitmore had let me see the basement on purpose. But why? What was the endgame?

The question gnawed at me. What was he playing at? Why let me get this far, only to spring the trap now? My mind spun with possibilities. None of them good.

Just then, my phone rang. The sound made me jump. I snatched it up, dread curling in my gut.

Unknown number. The digits glowed in the dark, mocking me. I answered, voice tight with anger. I already knew who it was.

His tone was oily, smug. I gritted my teeth, every muscle tensed for a fight. I braced myself for whatever was next.

“Erin, you think you’ve won?” he chuckled. “Take a look in your trunk.” My blood froze. I bolted from the car.

I jumped out and popped the trunk—inside was a ticking bomb, timer counting down, and a photo of my sister Hannah Brooks. My breath caught. Not again.

The bomb’s red numbers blinked, casting a hellish glow over Hannah’s smiling face. Her graduation photo—bright, hopeful, full of promise—now a twisted taunt from the man who’d taken everything from us. My hands shook.

“Welcome back, Officer Brooks,” Whitmore said. “The game’s just begun!” His voice echoed in my head, a promise of pain. I bit my lip, fighting panic.

The red numbers on the bomb ticked down: 00:04:59… 00:04:58… Each second slammed into my chest. I had to think. Fast.

I calculated distances, routes, options. There was no way I could get clear in time—not with Emily in the back seat, not with houses all around. The stakes had just skyrocketed. Sweat dripped down my back.

The weight of responsibility pressed down on me. Innocent lives, Emily’s life, my own—all balanced on a razor’s edge. Whitmore had set the perfect trap. I felt crushed, but I wouldn’t break.

Whitmore’s smug voice still echoed through the phone: “Like my welcome gift, Officer Brooks?” I wanted to scream.

I wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him. My hands shook with rage, but I forced myself to think, to plan. There had to be a way out. Don’t panic.

“You son of a bitch!” I shouted into the phone. My throat burned. I didn’t care if he heard the fear. I wanted him to know I was coming for him.

My voice was raw, fury spilling over. I didn’t care if he heard the fear behind it—I wanted him to know I wasn’t beaten yet. My knuckles turned white.

“Thanks for the compliment! If you try to run with Emily now, you’ll never make it—she’s just dead weight!” His words oozed like a snake. “Of course, you could always ditch her and run for it yourself, ha! But the people in those houses nearby won’t have time to escape!” My heart hammered. Bastard.

His voice dripped with poison. He wanted me to choose—Emily, myself, or dozens of strangers. It was a game to him, a sick test of my morals. I clenched my jaw, refusing to play by his rules.

His words were poison. “Didn’t you swear to protect and serve, Officer Brooks…?” I wanted to throw the phone. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He twisted the knife, mocking everything I stood for. My oath, my duty—all weaponized against me. My mind raced, searching for a solution. The seconds ticked down.

I hung up in disgust. No more games. I slammed the phone down on the hood, jaw clenched. I wouldn’t let him win.

Emily whimpered weakly from the back seat. I ran to her, desperate to comfort her. She needed me.

I rushed to her side, brushing the hair from her face. “Hang in there, Emily. I promise, I’ll get us out of this.” I had to believe it.

The bomb was rigged into a corner of the trunk. The photo of Hannah stabbed at my heart—her bright smile from college graduation, now placed in a spot like this. I blinked away tears. I wouldn’t let her down.

I stared at the photo, anger and grief warring inside me. Hannah’s eyes seemed to plead with me—don’t let him win. I wiped away a tear, squared my shoulders, and started searching for a way to disarm the bomb. The clock was ticking, but I’d been in tighter spots before. This time, I wasn’t alone—and I wasn’t giving up.