Chapter 19 - FOOTPRINTS ON THE FRESH SNOW
In that split second of paralyzed realization, Victoria made her final, monstrous calculation.
If she was going down, she wouldn't go alone.
Her fingers unclasped from Noah’s coat, and with a vicious shove, she propelled the five-year-old boy backward toward the dark, open water hole in the center of the pond where the aerator kept the ice paper-thin.
"Noah!" Claire screamed.
Claire didn't think. She threw her entire body forward, diving across the slick ice, ignoring the groaning cracks tearing beneath her weight. She caught Noah’s jacket by the hood just as his boots broke through the crust into the freezing black water.
With a surge of strength she didn't know she possessed, Claire spun on her back and slung Noah across the ice toward the snowy bank into Daniel’s waiting arms.
At the exact same moment, Victoria turned to flee toward the preserve trail. But her sudden, violent movement was too much for the compromised ice shelf.
With a sound like a gunshot, the ice gave way entirely beneath Victoria.
A blood-curdling shriek was cut short as she plunged chest-deep into the glacial water. The current beneath the pond’s surface grabbed her heavy wool coat, dragging her down like an anchor.
Officers rushed onto the bank with throw ropes. "Grab the line! Grab the line!" Miller shouted, throwing an orange rescue ring across the slush.
Victoria surfaced once, coughing and flailing, her manicured fingers clawing desperately at the slippery edges of the ice shelf, snapping off in chunks. Her eyes met Claire’s one last time—not with remorse, but with pure, unadulterated venom.
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Then, her head slipped beneath the dark, jagged rim of ice.
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