Chapter 7 - RECKONING IN THE RAIN
Z
Pure, adrenaline-fueled rage roared through my veins, hot enough to burn away the freezing cold of the rain.
"Hold on to me, baby!" I yelled to Olivia, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Hold on tight!"
I planted my knees deep into the mud, gritted my teeth, and shoved my shoulder under the heavy wooden beam. I screamed—a raw, primal sound—and lifted with everything I had left. The wood shifted just two inches.
"Pull your foot out! Now, Olivia! Pull!"
Olivia gasped, dragging her bruised ankle out from under the timber just as the rest of the stone wall collapsed with a loud CRASH, burying the spot where she had been pinned seconds before.
I scooped her up into my arms, holding her tightly against my chest, and scrambled up the muddy bank toward higher ground. We reached the safety of our porch, both of us shivering, covered in dirt and blood.
I carried her inside, wrapped her in three warm blankets, and immediately dialed 911.
"Oakridge Emergency, what is your location?"
"I need an ambulance and the police at 142 Lakeview Drive right now!" I gasped into the phone, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "My neighbor’s unpermitted retaining wall collapsed on my daughter! And my neighbor intentionally refused aid!"
Twenty minutes later, the quiet street was illuminated by flashing red and blue lights.
Two police cruisers, an ambulance, and the Chief of Police himself—Chief Miller—were parked in front of my house. Paramedics were inside checking Olivia’s ankle. Thankfully, it wasn't broken, just severely sprained and bruised.
Harold was there too, holding a thermos of hot tea, his eyes dark with absolute fury as I explained what had happened on the hill.
"She stood there, Chief," I said, wiping a towel over my wet hair, pointing up the hill toward Valerie's brightly lit villa. "She shone a flashlight right at us. I begged her to help or call 911. She turned around and walked away."
Chief Miller, a stern man with graying hair and a heavy brow, looked up at the collapsed wall, then back at me. "That's a severe charge, Ms. Vance. Failing to render aid when there's an immediate threat to life is a criminal offense in this state."
"I have proof," a small voice spoke up from the sofa.
Everyone turned. Olivia was sitting up, wrapped in her blanket. She reached into her small rain coat pocket on the floor and pulled out her little pink waterproof digital camera—the one my dad had bought her for her seventh birthday.
"I was trying to take pictures of Kevin the frog when the rain started," Olivia said quietly, handing the camera to Chief Miller. "I fell, but I kept pressing the button because I was scared."
Chief Miller took the camera, turning it on. Harold and I stepped closer to look at the small LCD screen.
There, stamped with an exact time and date, were three crystal-clear photos.
The first showed the fallen beam over Olivia's leg.
The second showed Valerie standing at the top of the embankment, holding the flashlight aimed directly down at Olivia.
And the third photo showed Valerie’s face clearly illuminated by her own light—staring down with a cold, ruthless expression before turning her back.
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Chief Miller’s jaw tightened. He handed the camera to his deputy.
"Secure this as evidence," Miller said, his voice dropping into a tone of icy authority. He turned to his officers. "Follow me. We're going up the hill."
