Chapter 10 - Brandon’s Desperate Escape Attempt And The Midnight Ambush
Two months before the criminal trial was scheduled to begin, the unthinkable happened.
Brandon was being transported from the regional medical center back to the county detention facility following an alleged asthma attack when he managed to slip one hand out of his transport cuff, overpower an elderly transport deputy, and escape through a hospital emergency exit into a waiting stolen vehicle.
Evelyn called me at 9:00 PM on a Tuesday.
"Hannah, get Liam and get inside the safe room right now," Evelyn said, her voice shaking with urgency. "Brandon escaped transport forty minutes ago. State police have established roadblocks, but we believe he might be heading north."
My heart pounded like a hammer in my chest. "He knows where the cabin is?"
"He might have found out through his private investigator’s confiscated files," Evelyn warned. "Police are en route to your location, but they are twenty minutes out."
I hung up, grabbed Liam from his crib, and ran into the cabin’s reinforced pantry safe room with Chloe. We locked the heavy deadbolts and activated the live security camera feeds on my phone.
Five minutes passed in terrifying silence. The only sound in the room was Liam’s soft breathing and the pounding of my own pulse.
Then, on camera four—overlooking the driveway—a shadow darted between the pine trees.
Brandon appeared on the screen. He was wearing stolen hospital scrubs, his face smeared with dirt, holding a heavy iron crowbar in his right hand. His eyes were wide and manic.
He walked directly up the wooden porch steps and began smashing the glass on the front door.
CRASH.
"Hannah!" his voice echoed through the cabin, wild and unhinged. "I know you're in here! Open the door! We are leaving together! You, me, and Liam! We’re starting over in Canada!"
He kicked the broken front door open and barged into the living room, tearing through the hallway, kicking open bedroom doors.
"Hannah!" he screamed, his voice cracking with madness. "Where is my son?!"
He reached the reinforced pantry door. He slammed the crowbar against the heavy steel lock, denting the frame.
"I know you're behind this door, Hannah!" he roared, slamming his shoulder into the wood. "Open it or I'll burn this whole cabin to the ground!"
Suddenly, high-intensity spotlights flooded the living room windows from outside.
"STATE POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON! DROP TO YOUR KNEES!"
Four tactical officers swarmed through the shattered front entrance with rifles raised.
Brandon spun around, raising the crowbar in defiance. "Shoot me! Go ahead and shoot me!"
A sharp crack echoed through the house as a non-lethal stun projectile struck Brandon square in the chest. He collapsed instantly to the floor, convulsing and gasping for air, the crowbar clattering harmlessly away across the hardwood.
Within seconds, officers pinned him to the floor, securing his arms and legs in maximum-security restraints.
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Through the pantry peephole, I watched the police drag Brandon away for the final time. There would be no bail. There would be no plea bargains. There would be no escape.
He was done.
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