PART 4

We hurried downstairs.

The basement smelled of concrete and old paint.

Behind a shelf of Christmas decorations was a narrow wooden hatch.

I shoved the shelf aside.

It refused to move.

Something heavy had been placed against it.

No…

Not against it.

On top of it.

From above.

Someone had entered the basement before.

My skin crawled.

Lily tugged my sleeve.

“Mommy…”

Footsteps.

Not inside.

Outside.

Directly above us.

Slow.

Measured.

The front porch.

Someone was at the door.

A loud knock echoed through the house.

Three knocks.

Then silence.

Another knock.

“Mrs. Harper?” a man called warmly.

“This is City Utilities. We’ve had reports of a gas leak.”

Lily’s fingernails dug into my arm.

The gas leak.

They knew.

I covered her mouth gently before she could make a sound.

The man knocked again.

“Ma’am? We just need you to unlock the door.”

His voice sounded almost friendly.

Too friendly.

I remembered Derek’s text.

Security company.

Now utility company.

Two different stories.

It was a lie.

The doorknob rattled.

Once.

Twice.

Then stopped.

A second voice spoke outside, quieter.

“She’s in there.”

I couldn’t hear the reply.

Then footsteps moved away.

I waited.

One minute.

Two.

Five.

Nothing.

Had they left?

Or were they waiting?

The basement hatch still wouldn’t budge.

I searched frantically until I found the contractor’s old toolbox.

Inside was a crowbar.

I wedged it beneath the hatch.

Pushed.

Wood cracked.

Again.

Harder.

With a deafening snap, the hatch lifted three inches.

Fresh air rushed in from the tunnel.

“Yes,” I whispered.

I pulled with everything I had.

The opening became wide enough for Lily.

“You go first.”

She crawled into the darkness.

I handed her the flashlight.

“Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Just as I climbed inside, a tremendous crash shook the house.

The front door.

Someone had broken it open.

Heavy footsteps thundered across the hardwood floor upstairs.

“Search every room!”

A man shouted.

Lily’s eyes widened in terror.

I lowered the hatch as quietly as possible.

Dust drifted from the ceiling.

We crawled through the narrow tunnel on our hands and knees, the flashlight beam bouncing over damp stone walls.

Behind us…

Another crash.

The basement door.

They were coming down.

Lily whispered through tears, “Mommy… they found us.”

I looked back into the darkness.

A thin line of light suddenly appeared beneath the hatch.

Someone had opened the basement.

Then I heard Derek’s unmistakable voice echo through the concrete tunnel.

“She couldn’t have gone far. Find my wife… and bring my daughter back alive.”

Derek’s voice echoed through the tunnel like a nightmare refusing to end.

“She couldn’t have gone far. Find my wife… and bring my daughter back alive.”

Alive.

He hadn’t said us.

He had said my daughter.

Every instinct in my body screamed that Lily and I were no longer running from an accident—we were running from my own husband.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART….