Chapter 10 - The Bathroom Siege
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I shoved the phone toward Detective Morales. She read the frantic texts, her jaw tightening.
"Call her right now," Morales ordered.
I hit dial and threw it back on speaker. Brooke answered on the first ring. Her breathing was ragged, shallow, and fast.
"Claire?" she whispered, sounding like a terrified child.
"Where are you, Brooke?" I asked.
"I'm at the penthouse. In the guest bathroom. Dad took my keys. He took my phone, but I have my old backup phone from my gym bag."
"Are Ryan and your parents there?"
"Yes. They're packing."
Morales leaned over the phone. "Brooke, this is Detective Morales with the Denver Police. Are you in immediate physical danger?"
Brooke let out a muffled sob. "I don’t know. Dad is screaming. He said I ruined everything. He said I betrayed the blood."
In the background, a loud crash echoed through the phone speaker, like a piece of heavy furniture being thrown. Brooke gasped, covering the receiver.
"Who was that?" I demanded.
"It's Ryan," Brooke whimpered.
"Brooke, listen to me," Morales said, her voice calm and authoritative. "Is the bathroom door locked?"
"Yes."
"Do not open it. I have units two minutes away."
Suddenly, a deafening pounding sound erupted through the speaker. Wood splintering.
"Brooke!" Ryan's voice roared through the phone, distorted by rage. "Open this goddamn door!"
"Oh my God, oh my God," Brooke chanted, crying hysterically.
"Brooke, the police are entering the lobby now. Stay low to the ground," Morales commanded into the phone.
Another violent impact against the door.
"You stupid little bitch!" Grant's voice joined the assault. "Open the door before I break it down and drag you out!"
My stomach violently clenched. This was the family I had spent Thanksgiving with. This was the man who was supposed to be my child's grandfather.
A loud crack echoed as the bathroom door frame splintered.
Brooke screamed—a bloodcurdling sound of pure terror.
Then, chaos. Muffled shouting. The sound of heavy boots hitting the hardwood floor.
"Denver Police! Show me your hands! Get on the ground!" an officer bellowed in the background.
More screaming. The sound of a scuffle. Handcuffs ratcheting closed.
Then, the call abruptly disconnected.
I stood in the hotel room, gripping the edge of the table, my knuckles pure white. Morales touched her earpiece, listening to the police radio channel.
May you like
She looked up at me and nodded. "They have them. Ryan and Grant are in custody. Brooke is safe."
I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for three years.
