Chapter 1 - THE MAN AT THE DOOR
The metallic click of the deadbolt felt like a physical strike against my chest.
Lily’s small hand squeezed mine so hard I could feel the blood trapped in her fingers. Her body was trembling against my leg. My heart was pounding like a war drum in my ears, drowning out the soft, hummed cycle of the dishwasher and the quiet tick of the wall clock in the hallway.
7:20 AM.
"Sarah..." a voice whispered from the other side of the heavy wooden door. It wasn't Derek's voice. It was lower, gravelly, and laced with a strange, calm authority that made every instinct in my body scream danger. "Open the door, Sarah. Don't make this louder than it needs to be."
My throat locked up. I pressed my back against the wall beside the entryway, pulling Lily tightly behind me into the small dead-zone where someone looking through the glass peephole wouldn't be able to see us.
How did they get a key?
Derek. He had given them one. He hadn't just arranged an "accident"—he had coordinated the exact timing down to the minute. He had walked out that door thirty minutes ago, kissed my forehead, and handed the spare key to a butcher.
The brass knob turned slowly.
I didn't think; I moved on pure, raw instinct. I grabbed the heavy, wrought-iron umbrella stand beside the coat rack and wedged it violently under the knob just as the door began to yield.
CLANG.
The door slammed hard against the iron frame. Outside, a muffled curse broke the quiet morning.
"Mommy!" Lily gasped, tears finally spilling over her lashes.
"Shh!" I hissed, clutching her face with both hands. "Lily, look at me. Listen to my voice. We are going out the back. Run to the fence, do you hear me? Don't stop. Don't look back."
The door rattled again, harder this time. Thud. Thud. The heavy wood groaned against the lock. Whoever was on the porch was no longer trying to be quiet.
"Sarah!" the voice barked, abandoning the whisper. "Derek sold you out two weeks ago! You think running solves this? He took three million dollars from people you don't want to owe! If you open this door, we can talk!"
Three million dollars?
My mind whirled, but I forced the confusion down. It was a trap. Everything out of that man's mouth was a trap.
I grabbed Lily's backpack, threw it over her shoulders, grabbed my purse with the blue emergency folder tucked tightly under my arm, and sprinted down the hallway toward the kitchen.
The glass back door was right ahead. I slammed the deadbolt open, yanked the patio door slide back, and pushed Lily out into the cold, damp morning air.
CRASH.
Behind us, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass echoed through the house. The front door had given way.
"Go! Go! Go!" I screamed, pushing Lily toward the small wooden gate in our backyard fence that led into the narrow alleyway behind our suburban row.
We scrambled through the mud. My sneakers slipped on the wet grass, but I caught myself, grabbing Lily's jacket as we threw ourselves through the alley gate and slammed it shut behind us.
We burst into the alley just in time to hear heavy boots pounding across our kitchen floor inside.
"They're going out the back! Cover the lane!" a second voice yelled from inside our house.
There were two of them.
Panic turned my blood to ice. The alley opened up to the main street fifty yards away, but I could already hear the throaty roar of a high-horsepower engine idling near the lane entrance. They had the exit blocked with a car.
"This way!" I pulled Lily left, down a narrow, hidden access gap between our neighbor’s garage and a towering brick retaining wall—a shortcut Lily and I used when walking to the park. It was overgrown with thorny bushes and barely wide enough for an adult.
We squeezed into the shadow of the brick wall just as a black SUV surged past the mouth of the alley, its tires screeching on the wet asphalt.
Lily put her hands over her mouth, her small body shuddering as she tried to stifle her sobs. I pulled her down into the damp leaves beneath the bushes, wrapping my arms completely around her, using my coat to cover her brightly colored pajamas.
Through the gaps in the foliage, I saw him.
A tall man in a dark canvas jacket walked slowly out of my back gate. He held a sleek, black silenced pistol lowered at his side. He turned his head left, then right, scanning the alley with chilling, mechanical efficiency.
He didn't look like a burglar. He looked like an assassin.
He reached up, pressed a small earbud in his right ear, and spoke clearly into the cool air.
"She's gone. She took the kid. They left the vehicle in the driveway."
A pause as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
Then he spoke again, and the words froze the air right out of my lungs.
"No, boss. Derek didn't lie. The fire trap in the basement is set to trigger in five minutes. If she comes back, she dies. If she doesn't, the whole house goes up anyway and burns the paper trail. We'll track her phone."
My phone.
My hand instinctively rushed to my pocket. The screen was lit up.
May you like
A notification was flashing on the screen.
LOCATION SHARING ENABLED: DEREK'S ACCOUNT IS TRACKING THIS DEVICE.
