Chapter 6 - Inside the Panic Room
The panic room was small, windowless, and lit by a single dim overhead emergency bulb. The air smelled faintly of dust and old concrete. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with bottled water, canned goods, first-aid kits, and a secure landline telephone wired directly to the local emergency dispatch.
Harper’s hands shook uncontrollably as she lifted the heavy black telephone receiver. She punched in the emergency digits, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
“911 dispatch, what is your emergency?” a calm female voice answered.
“This is Harper Cole,” she blurted out, her voice breathless and frantic. “142 Elm Street. My husband is confronting armed intruders outside our home right now! We need police backup immediately—send tactical units, please!”
“Ma’am, calm down. Is your husband currently engaged with the intruders? Are you safe?”
“I’m in the safe room, but my husband is out in the house,” Harper cried, pressing her ear against the reinforced wooden door.
Through the thick barrier, muffled sounds filtered into the tiny room. A loud crash echoed through the house, followed by the sound of splintering wood and heavy footsteps stomping across the hardwood floors of the living room.
“Harper! I know you’re in here!” a raspy, unfamiliar voice called out from the main hallway. It wasn't Daniel. It was cold, metallic, and dripping with malicious intent. “Or should I call you Mrs. Cole? It’s funny how Daniel always had a type. First Lily, then you.”
Harper gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth to silence her breathing. The intruder knew about Lily. They knew everything.
“Where is the boy, Daniel?” the stranger’s voice barked, followed by the sickening sound of flesh hitting wood and Daniel grounting in pain.
“I’ll never tell you,” Daniel’s voice strained, sounding defiant despite taking a heavy blow. “Leave my family out of this. This is between you and me.”
“There is no family, Daniel,” the intruder sneered. “You tried to play the honest suburban husband for ten years, playing house with a ghost. But debts don’t disappear just because you change your zip code.”
Harper’s blood ran cold. Through the crack in the pantry door, she heard the unmistakable sound of a firearm slide being racked.
Clack-click.
She couldn't just stay in the room and wait for them to execute her husband. If the police didn't arrive in the next two minutes, Daniel would die on their kitchen floor.
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Scanning the shelves of the panic room frantically, Harper’s eyes landed on a heavy crowbar resting in a tool kit near the floor. Bending down carefully to accommodate her heavy belly, she grabbed the metal tool.
She took a deep breath, centered herself, and reached for the emergency release latch of the hidden door.
