Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Pantry
The wood splinters flew into the kitchen like shrapnel. Through the slatted blinds of the pantry door, I saw a hulking figure step into the light of the kitchen. He wore a faded canvas jacket stained with grease and dirt, his face obscured by a dark dust mask pulled down around his neck. It was the lead contractor Mark had brought over three days ago—the man who went by the name of Vance.
"I know you're in here, Sarah," Vance growled, his voice rasping from years of smoking. He dragged the heavy crowbar he’s taken from his partner across the hardwood floor, the metallic scraping sound echoing through the small space. "Mark told us you'd put up a fight. Said you were headstrong. But he didn't tell us the kid would still be here. That wasn't part of the fee."
I pressed my back against the sturdy metal shelving of the pantry, my arm wrapping around Lily, squeezing her tightly against my ribcage. Her small body was trembling so violently I thought her bones might break. I pressed my palm over her lips, feeling her warm, jagged breaths against my skin.
"Ma'am? Are you still there? Units are en route, ETA four minutes," the 911 dispatcher whispered from my phone speaker, which I had jammed against my chest to muffle the sound.
Four minutes. In a situation like this, four minutes was an eternity.
"Look, Vance!" I called out, my voice cracking despite my desperate attempt to sound steady. "Whatever Mark offered you, I can double it. I have access to our joint accounts. I can transfer the money right now. Just take your friend and walk away!"
Vance stopped moving. I could see his outline through the slats. He tilted his head, seemingly weighing the proposition. "Mark paid us fifty thousand in cash, half upfront. Said the rest comes after the insurance payout. You think you can match a life insurance payout, lady? Two million dollars? Mark’s got this whole place rigged to burn after we leave."
The breath caught in my throat. Insurance. Two million dollars. Mark had quietly updated our life insurance policies six months ago, raising my coverage to a staggering amount while citing our daughter's future college tuition as the reason. I had trusted him. I had signed the papers without a second thought.
"He's lying to you!" I yelled, trying to keep Vance talking, praying to hear the sound of distant sirens. "Mark doesn't have that kind of money! He’s in debt—his business is failing!"
"That's why he needs the payout, sweetheart," Vance chuckled, a low, cruel sound. "And he made sure he’s got an ironclad alibi. He's on a plane right now. Mid-flight wifi logouts, receipts from the airport terminal—he covered his tracks real clean."
Suddenly, the glass of the back patio door shattered into thousands of tiny, glittering pieces. The second man stepped into the kitchen, smelling heavily of damp earth and gasoline.
"Stop jawing with her, Vance!" the second man hissed. "The kid saw us. We don't have time for a negotiation. The neighbor's lights just turned on. Get them out of the pantry now!"
"Right," Vance said.
I heard his boots step closer. The butcher knife in my hand felt slick, my palm covered in cold sweat. I adjusted my grip, holding the seven-inch steel blade pointed straight ahead at chest height. I whispered into Lily’s ear, "When I open this door, you run for the broken glass in the kitchen, jump onto the deck, and don't stop running until you hit the road. Understand me?"
Lily shook her head frantically, tears running down her red cheeks. "No, Mommy! I'm not leaving you!"
"You have to, Lily. Run to Mrs. Higgins' house. Press her doorbell and don't stop pressing it."
Vance raised his heavy steel-toed boot and slammed it into the center of the pantry door. The thin wood cracked right down the middle, splintering inward. Dust and splinters rained down on us. Through the gap, Vance's dark eyes locked onto mine.
"Found you," he gritted out.
He kicked the door a second time, and the panel caved in completely. Before he could reach inside to grab me, I lunged forward with everything I had. I didn't think; I just thrust the butcher knife straight through the jagged hole in the door.
The blade found soft tissue. Vance gasped in shock and pain as the tip buried into his shoulder. He staggered backward, cursing loudly, his hands clutching at his bleeding coat.
"You crazy bitch!" he screamed.
"Run, Lily! NOW!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I threw the remains of the pantry door open, shoving Vance back with all my weight. He hit the kitchen counter, knocking over a rack of spice jars that smashed across the floor. The second man lunged at me, grabbing my shoulder with a vice-like grip, but I spun around and slashed wildly with the knife, catching his forearm. He roared in agony and let go.
Lily darted past them like a lightning bolt, her small frame agile enough to avoid their grasp. She scrambled over the shattered frame of the patio door and vanished into the darkness of the backyard.
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"Get the kid!" Vance yelled, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Don't let her reach the street!"
The second man turned and lunged out the back door after Lily. Panic, hot and wild, consumed me. I couldn't let him touch my daughter. I grabbed a heavy cast-iron skillet off the stove and sprinted out into the night after him.
