As Claire was momentarily stunned, she slashed out with her knife blindly. It sliced right across the top of Rachels wrist, drawing blood instantly. Dimly, Rachel was aware of Jack coming to her aide; hed gone to the victims side first, as was protocol. Apparently, Claire Allen also sensed him coming. She turned in his direction and that was the opening Rachel needed. Using the butt of her Glock for extra weight, Rachel delivered a quick punch to the side of Claires head.

Claire blinked rapidly a few times and then tottered over. The knife clattered to the floor in the spilled paint water. She tried getting to her feet, but Rachel got to her knees, placing one squarely in the center of Claires back. She noticed that her right arm was bleeding. She also realized that if the cut had been on the other side of her armon the underside of the wristshe might be in some serious trouble.

Yeah, some manic voice inside of her head said. You might bleed out and die before the tumor you wont tell anyone about has a proper chance to kill you…

Jack swept in and placed a set of handcuffs on Claire Allen as Rachel pulled her arms back. Ive got her, Rachel said as she got to her feet. She did so slowly, worried that the white streaks might come backthat shed pass out in front of Jack again. Make sure the victim is okay.

Im okay, Cassie McNeil said weakly from against the wall.

I think she might be, Jack said, pulling out his phone. Theres a cut along her side…not to deep. And what looks almost like a papercut low on her neck. But shes bleeding pretty bad from the side.

With Claire Allen in cuffs and face down on the floor, Rachel took a moment to observe her own wound. It had sliced deep enough to where it might need stitches and the bleeding wasnt as bad as shed first feared. As Jack called in for an ambulance, Rachel took several paper towels from the roll on the kitchen counter and wrapped them around her cut.

As Rachel walked over to the wounded womanCassie McNeil, she safely assumedRachel took note of the painting on the table. An ocean scene, with a storm on the horizon. Without warning, a snippet from the nightmare shed had two nights ago flashed through her head. Her mother, sitting on the boat shed died in, looing lovingly at Rachel.

Its about time you met me out on the boat, her mother had said.

This recollection was broken by the first protests from Claire Allen. Im not the guilty one, she said, her voice somewhere between wailing and crying. Shes a thief! She wants what isnt hers! Im innocent! I should have my chance, too.