SLAP-CRACK.
“You were the one who poured the drops into her morning tea every Tuesday!” Paula screamed, tears of manic rage streaming down her makeup. “You told me you loved me! You told me that once Laura signed the divorce papers, you and I would take the sixty-four million to Zurich and leave her with nothing!”
“Shut up! Shut your mouth, you psycho bitch!” Diego roared, shoving Paula violently backward against the examination sink.
CLANG.
“FEDERAL AGENTS! DO NOT MOVE!”
The two tactical operators closed the distance in half a second.
THUD. THUD.
Diego was slammed face-down onto the cold linoleum floor, his cheek pressed flat against the scattered speculums, his arms twisted brutally behind his back as high-tensile steel transport irons ratcheted around his wrists with an echoing CLICK-CLACK.
Paula was pinned against the wall, her hands locked in cuffs, sobbing in wild, unhinged hysterics.
Special Agent Marcus Vance stepped over Diego’s squirming, handcuffed frame, stopping beside my bed.
