Chapter 4 - What the Closet Kept Secret
"Get your hands off my doorknob immediately," I said, stepping closer to the door, my voice dropping into a steady, razor-sharp edge. "This is private property. If you take one more step toward my screen, I am hitting the panic button on my alarm system and calling Sheriff Dalton."
The rattling stopped abruptly.
Through the peephole, I watched Marcus step back half a pace. The mention of the local sheriff seemed to strike a nerve. His jaw worked furiously, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his gaze darted toward the street, where an elderly neighbor was walking her golden retriever down the sidewalk.
"I'm just worried about my family, lady," Marcus muttered, forcing his tone into an unconvincing, oily sweetness that made my skin crawl. "Little kids wander into strangers' yards. You know how it is. If you see them, you bring them straight to number forty-two. You hear me?"
"I heard you," I replied coldly. "Now get off my porch."
I watched through the peephole as he slowly retreated down the wooden steps. He didn't go back into his house right away. Instead, he lingered by the edge of my flowerbed, glaring suspiciously at my living room windows, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his fatigue jacket. Only when my neighbor with the dog waved at him did he turn around and stalk back across the property line.
As soon as his front door slammed shut, I ran to my kitchen landline, grabbed the receiver, and dialed the direct number for the county dispatch.
"County Sheriff's Office, Officer Miller speaking."
"Miller, this is Nora Hayes on Oakridge Lane," I said, keeping my voice low and urgent. "I need an officer out here immediately. Code three."
"Mrs. Hayes? What's going on? Are you hurt?"
"I am fine, but there is an active hostage situation next door at forty-two Oakridge," I said, every word clipped and precise. "A man named Marcus has locked a young mother inside a pantry. Her two three-year-old twins escaped and are currently hiding in my house. The children have bruises, and the man is erratic, aggressive, and pacing the property."
Miller's tone shifted from routine courtesy to pure professional urgency. "Stay inside your home, Nora. Lock every window and door. Keep those girls out of sight. I have two cruisers rolling toward your block right now. ETA is seven minutes."
"Please hurry, Miller," I whispered. "He knows they're nearby."
I hung up the phone and hurried back down the hall to my bedroom closet. When I clicked the door open, the sight broke my heart in two.
Lily and Maya were huddled together in the corner, clutching each other so tightly they looked like a single ball of tangled limbs and blankets. Lily had her little hand clamped firmly over Maya’s mouth to keep her sister from crying out loud.
"It's okay, babies," I murmured, dropping to my knees and pulling both of them into my lap. "He's gone off the porch. You were so brave. The absolute bravest little girls I have ever seen."
Lily collapsed against my chest, her tiny frame shuddering with sobs of pure relief. "Did the loud man go away?"
"He's next door, but the police are coming," I reassured her, stroking her damp dark curls. "Real helpers with shiny badges and sirens. They are going to get your mommy out of that dark room."
Suddenly, a loud, metallic clatter echoed from my backyard.
My head snapped up.
My bedroom window looked out over my fenced rear patio and vegetable garden. Through the white wooden blinds, I saw the latch on my tall cedar garden gate swing open.
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Marcus hadn't gone inside his house to wait.
He had circled around the back alley, hopped my six-foot privacy fence, and was now creeping across my patio, clutching an iron tire iron in his gloved right hand.
