The light flickered against the dark trees.

“They did it,” Wyatt said, his voice flat with disbelief.

The front door of the house flew open.

My mother stumbled out onto the porch, coughing.

Melanie followed her, clutching a small designer purse to her chest.

My father came out last, carrying the heavy duffel bag.

Smoke began to pour out of the open front door behind them.

It was thick and grey, rising into the cold Ohio night.

“They’re running,” Wyatt said.

“Not far,” I replied.

The headlights of the unmarked police vehicles suddenly flashed on.

The bright beams cut through the darkness, blinding my family as they reached the driveway.

Screeching tires echoed down the quiet street.

Two police cruisers pulled up onto the grass, blocking my father’s sedan.

Detective Harper climbed out of the lead passenger side, his weapon drawn.

“State police!” he shouted.

“Get on the ground!”

My mother screamed and dropped to her knees immediately.

Melanie threw her purse into the dirt and covered her head.

My father froze, the duffel bag still clutched in his right hand.