Chapter 13 - The Echo In The Hallway
I didn't turn on a single light.
I moved through the hallway like a ghost, my pulse thundering in my ears.
"Lily," I whispered, opening her bedroom door.
My eight-year-old daughter was sitting on her carpet, dressing her teddy bear in Marcus’s old stethoscope.
"Mommy? Why is it so dark?" she asked, looking up with Marcus’s wide, hazel eyes.
"We’re going to play a secret adventure game, sweetheart," I said, trying desperately to keep my voice steady.
"We have to be as quiet as little mice."
I grabbed her warm winter coat and shoved her school backpack over her shoulders.
"Can I bring Daddy's lunch bag?" she asked, pointing to the brown paper bag resting on her nightstand.
I froze, remembering Marcus's frantic postscript: *Do not let them take the brown paper bag from the bottom drawer.*
I picked it up.
It wasn't an ordinary grocery bag.
The base was heavier, reinforced with thick fiber tape, and felt stiff against my palm.
I shoved it deep inside my coat pocket, zipping it securely against my chest.
I led Lily down the back stairs toward the kitchen, avoiding the floorboards that creaked.
We slipped through the laundry room and out the side door, into the biting chill of the autumn downpour.
The cold rain plastered my hair to my face as we ducked behind the tall hedge separating our lawn from our neighbor’s fence.
Across the street, the doors of the black sedan suddenly clicked open.
Two men in dark trench coats stepped out into the rain.
One of them held a handheld electronic device that glowed blue against the dark pavement.
They walked briskly up our front steps, not bothering to knock.
I heard the heavy crack of a crowbar levering against our front deadbolt.
"Mommy, who are those men?" Lily whimpered, trembling against my side.
May you like
"Run, Lily," I breathed into her ear, taking her small hand.
We slipped through the gap in Mrs. Gable’s wooden fence and sprinted into the darkness of the alleyway.
