CHAPTER 7
The sharp report of the bullet echoed through the afternoon air, its reverberations carrying far beyond the construction site. In the tranquil town of Nyack, nestled in the heart of Hudson Valley, the sound was a jarring anomaly.
Nyack, with its rich history and natural beauty, was a haven for tourists. The town's scenic attractions – the Hudson River Waterfront, Nyack Beach State Park, and the vibrant Nyack Farmers Market – drew visitors from far and wide. But today, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered by the ominous sound of gunfire.
Sam's voice was laced with incredulity.
"A gunshot in Nyack?" he repeated, as if the idea was unthinkable. And it almost was. Nyack, with its quaint charm and strong sense of community, was a town where crime was a rarity. Robberies and break-ins were occasional nuisances, but shootings were virtually unheard of. The very notion sent a shiver down Sam's spine.
"Stay here, I need to check it out," Sam said, already moving towards the entrance. But Brownie quickly blocked his path, her eyes filled with genuine concern.
"I can't let you go in there," she said firmly. "I'm a detective, it's my duty."
Sam's expression softened. "And you're my granddaughter."
Just then, another gunshot echoed through the air, making Brownie's words catch in her throat. Sam's eyes narrowed.
"That's a rifle," he noted grimly. "The sound gave it away."
Brownie's eyes widened. "Who owns a rifle?" she asked, but Sam was no longer beside her. She spun around, scanning the area frantically, but he was gone.
Brownie found herself scanning nervously for her grandfather, she saw him clenching on a pistol and moving steadily but slowly towards the entrance,his deliberate stride betrayed his military background.
His stride was marked by the same purposeful deliberation he'd honed during his time in uniform.
The unexpected twist sent Brownie into a tailspin of confusion and uncertainty,Her heart race and eyes widened in bewilderment as the world around her seemed to be tilt on its axis. A feeling of dread washed over her as she watched her grandfather approach danger,pistol in hand while she was left defenseless, her gun back in her mothers room.
As she weighed her options, her gaze fell upon a bat lying nearby. It wasn't her first choice, but it would have to do. With a strong sense of ownership, she knew she had to intervene and take control of the situation - it was what she was sworn to do.
With newfound resolve, she took a deep breath, and walked towards the entrance with a purposeful stride,echoing her grandfather's confident gait.
Brownie cautiously approached the entrance and peeked inside, but the construction site was eerily deserted, with no sign of her grandfather or anyone else.
"Where is he?" She whispered to herself,a surge of fear gripping her heart as memories of past trauma resurfaced, threatening to overwhelm her.
Panic set in as she frantically scanned the site, Her PTSD kicked in,transporting her back to a place of vulnerability,just when she found her grandparents again.
"I have to go inside to get a better look"
She peeked from the entrance, her eyes darting back and forth as she assessed the layout for possible hiding spots and escape routes, she saw a vending machine few steps from where she was, and she saw a bike beside it.
As she approached the vending machine,her eyes landed on the bike parked beside it, which sparked a sense of déjà vu. However, her piority was finding her grandfather, so she pushed the feeling aside and noticed another vending machine just a short distance away.
"That should work" she thought,edging towards it,but before she could take another step, a third rifle shot cracked through the air,and she quickly dropped behind a table taking cover.
Another shot rang out,followed by another,and another. The shooter had clearly acquired their target and was determined to take it down. She gripped her bat tightly, her heart racing.
As a seasoned police officer, she'd faced her share of high-pressure situations, but this one was uniquely daunting - she was alone, without backup. And to make matters worse, she'd left her phone in the car, cutting off her lifeline to call for support.
The relentless gunfire was deafening, but she managed to tune in to a different sound - the sound of someone running for their life.
'That's the target' she thought,her grip on the bat tightening.
She glanced over the table,she spotted a figure dressed in all black, including a ski mask that concealed his identity. A bag was slung over his shoulder, and he was sprinting across the area with a clear sense of purpose, and that purpose was to put as much distance between himself and the shooter as possible.
Suddenly, the pieces fell into place: the target wasn't an innocent bystander, but a thief, and the shooter was simply defending their property, the situation was turned on its head.
The man in the ski mask kept sprinting towards the spot where Brownie had taken cover, but his escape was cut short when a bullet struck his leg, sending him tumbling over the table and crashing to the ground in front of her.
With the element of surprise on her side, she seized the robber from behind, holding him in a tight headlock. But he quickly broke free, landing a series of blows that sent her reeling.
As he spun around to face his attacker, his eyes widened in surprise - his assailant was a woman. And in a bold move, she ripped off his ski mask, revealing a face partially hidden by a wild tangle of dreadlocks.
It was Crystal her next door neighbor but she had no idea, she had never seen him untill now, and right now wasn't even a clear moment.
Dazed from the punch, Brownie's sight became dizzy, her head spun from the force of the punch. The blow had struck her right between the eyes. with her eyes streaming with tears, her eyebrows were torn,and eye swelling shut it was hard to focus. But she held on to the ski mask, her fingers digging deep into the fabric, and blood dripping on her white tee shirt, she stared at the robber.
And as she gazed at the man in front of her, Crystal, she noticed blood seeping from his stomach, despite the fact that he'd been shot in the leg. Her mind racing, vision blurry, she realized something else must have happened - something more sinister.
The gun fire erupted again, and Crystal, bleeding and battered, made a beeline for the bike.
Brownie's gaze shifted to the shooter, a stout man with a noticeably protruding stomach, who continued to fire at Crystal with reckless abandon.
Crystal sprang onto the bike, roared it to life, and sped off towards the entrance. Brownie slumped against the table, her bloodied eye throbbing with pain, as she watched the bike disappearing into the distance. A wave of frustration washed over her - she'd let the preparator escape.
Brownie thoughts were soon interrupted by the bikes return, speeding towards the chubby shooter, who she assumed was the site's owner. He raised his rifle and fired,but the click of the empty chamber gave Crystal the opening he needed. With lightning-fast reflexes, Crystal pulled out his Glock, and with a single deadly shot to the head, he brought an abrupt end to the violence.
In the blink of an eye, Brownie's role had shifted from detective to eyewitness in a shocking murder case. The sound of the bike fading into the distance was still echoing in her ears as she rushed to check on the chubby shooter. But her attention was quickly diverted to a more gruesome discovery: Sam lay motionless in a pool of blood on the other side of the table where she had taken cover.