Chapter 4 - Sirens and the First Arrest
Jason didn't try to flee the neighborhood. Instead, his pickup truck backed out aggressively, tires squealing against the asphalt, and parked diagonally right across the street, blocking my exit path. He killed the engine, opened the door, and stepped out onto the road, walking slowly toward my SUV with a menacing, swaggering stride.
"Dad..." Emily choked out, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her dirty cheeks. "He's coming. He's going to hurt us."
"Lock your door, baby. Look at me. Look at my eyes," I commanded gently, making sure she focused on my face. "Nothing is going to happen to you. Your dad is right here."
I reached into the glove compartment, my fingers closing around a heavy metal tire iron. It wasn't much, but it was weight, and it was protection.
Jason reached my driver's side window and slammed his heavy palm against the glass. The sound echoed like a gunshot through the quiet suburban afternoon.
"Open the door, Michael!" Jason shouted, his face twisted into an ugly, venomous snarl. "You're making a massive mistake. You think you're some kind of hero, don't you? You're just a pathetic loser who couldn't keep his wife satisfied!"
I didn't roll down the window. I stared straight ahead, my grip tightening around the tire iron.
Jason slammed his fist against the glass again, leaving a greasy smudge on the window. "Open the damn door or I'll smash this glass out and drag you both across the pavement!"
Before he could strike the window a third time, a high-pitched, wailing shriek split the air.
Red and blue strobe lights painted the front lawns in violent, flashing colors. Two marked police cruisers turned the corner onto Elm Street at breakneck speed, tires smoking as they slammed on their brakes. One cruiser slammed to a halt directly behind Jason’s pickup truck, blocking him in, while the second cruiser surged forward and parked sideways, boxing Jason in from the front.
"Police! Drop to your knees! Put your hands behind your head right now!" a booming voice echoed from the loudspeaker of the lead cruiser.
Doors flew open. Four officers poured out of the vehicles with their service weapons drawn, lasers dotting Jason’s chest and shoulders in bright red dots.
Jason froze. The arrogant smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden, pathetic cowardice. He slowly raised his hands in the air, looking frantically between the police officers and his own front porch, where Sarah had just reappeared, screaming hysterically.
"Get down on the ground! Do it now!" Officer Miller—who had arrived in an unmarked car moments behind the cruisers—shouted as he strode forward with zip-ties ready.
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Jason dropped heavily to his knees on the hot asphalt, muttering under his breath as the officers swarmed him, slamming him face-down onto the road and securing his wrists behind his back.
As they hauled him to his feet and shoved him into the back of the first patrol car, Jason stared directly through my windshield at me. His lips curled into a silent, chilling promise of revenge.
