Chapter 2 - The Impossible Photograph

Sarah whipped around. Standing in the doorway, blocking their only exit, was Uncle Richard. Flanking him were two large, silent men in dark suits. One of them racked the slide of a silenced pistol.

"Richard," Sarah breathed, instinctively pushing Chloe behind her legs. "What is this?"

"This is the tragic end to a beautiful wedding day," Richard said, adjusting his cuffs with sickening calm. "The narrative will practically write itself. The pressure of the wedding was too much for poor Sarah. She had a mental break, kidnapped the flower girl, forced her fiancé to drive to an abandoned motel, and in a fit of hysterical psychosis... well, Mark had to defend himself, but sadly, no one survived."

Mark tightened his grip on the tire iron. "You're a monster."

"I'm a businessman," Richard corrected, stepping slowly into the room. "Your mother, Sarah, was stubborn. When she found out I was borrowing from the family trust to cover my bad investments, she threatened to go to the FBI. I couldn't let that happen. So, the brakes on her car mysteriously failed on the canyon bridge."

"But she survived," Sarah said, tears of rage pooling in her eyes.

"A minor miscalculation on my part," Richard sighed. "She dragged herself out of the river and vanished into the underground. For five years, she's been a ghost, building this pathetic wall of evidence. I knew she would try to reach you before you signed the final marriage and trust documents today. I just didn't know she'd use one of my own little orphans to do it." He glared at Chloe. "You've been a very bad girl."

Chloe whimpered, burying her face in Sarah's wedding dress.

"Don't you look at her!" Sarah screamed. "You won't get away with this, Richard. If my mother is alive, she's already gone to the police!"

Richard laughed, a cold, dry sound. "Do you honestly think I came here without securing loose ends? My men caught the woman in the red coat two miles from the church. She's currently tied up in the trunk of my car. I plan on tossing her in the river tonight—properly, this time."

Sarah felt the breath leave her lungs. Her mother was outside. In a trunk. So close, yet about to be murdered again.

"Kill them," Richard ordered his men, turning his back to walk out. "Make it look messy."

The man with the gun raised it, aiming directly at Mark's chest.

"No!" Sarah screamed.

Suddenly, Mark lunged. He swung the tire iron with every ounce of strength he had, striking the gunman's wrist. A deafening CRACK echoed through the room. The gun fired into the ceiling, showering plaster over them.

Total chaos erupted. The second man rushed Mark, tackling him into the wall of evidence. Papers and red strings tore down in a flurry. Mark fought furiously, a groom desperate to protect his bride.

"Run, Sarah! Take Chloe and run!" Mark roared as he took a brutal punch to the jaw.

Sarah didn't run. She grabbed a heavy, vintage glass lamp from the nightstand. As the gunman reached for his dropped weapon, Sarah brought the lamp crashing down on the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor.

Richard spun around at the noise, his eyes widening in shock. "You useless idiots!" he yelled, reaching into his own coat for a weapon.

But before his hand could clear his jacket, the screech of tires outside shattered the tension. Flashing red and blue lights instantly illuminated the motel windows, bathing the room in a chaotic strobe effect.