Chapter 6 - The Trap is Sprung
Adrenaline surged through my veins like liquid fire, instantly burning away every shred of fear and replacing it with a cold, predatory focus.
I didn't open the door. I didn't scream for my mother or wake Chloe.
Instead, I stepped backward into the shadowed recess of the hallway, lifted my phone with my left hand while keeping the heavy brass poker gripped tightly in my right, and dialed 911 directly.
“911, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher’s calm voice answered instantly.
“This is Sarah Hayes, 428 Elmwood Drive,” I whispered into the phone, keeping my eyes fixed on the patio door. “There is an intruder actively attempting to break into my residence through the rear patio doors. He has a cord. He’s threatening me. We have an active police unit assigned to our front perimeter—dispatch them to the rear yard immediately!”
“Units have been notified, Mrs. Hayes. Stay inside a locked room. Do not engage,” the dispatcher instructed.
Outside, the silhouette shifted. The sound of a glass-cutter scraping against the exterior pane rasped through the quiet night. A sharp, circular crack spiderwebbed across the lower corner of the patio door.
I backed up another two steps, positioning myself just around the corner where the hallway met the kitchen, completely hidden from view.
Crunch.
A gloved hand reached through the broken pane of glass, fingers fumbling for the interior latch.
The latch clicked open.
The door slid sideways with a soft, metallic screech.
A figure stepped over the threshold into my dining room, bringing with him the cold, damp scent of winter air and cheap tobacco. He wore a dark hoodie pulled low over his forehead, and across the chest of his jacket, a silver reflective patch caught the moonlight.
Tyler Vance.
He stepped onto the hardwood floor, turning his head slowly as he scanned the darkened interior of the house. In his right hand, the braided nylon jump rope was coiled tight, ready.
“I know you’re awake, lady,” Tyler muttered, his voice raspy and young, belying the chilling menace in his tone. “You shouldn't have gone crying to the cops. My brother said you were smart, but you’re just as stupid as the rest of them.”
He took two steps forward, heading directly toward the stairs leading to the second floor where Chloe and my mother were sleeping.
That was when the darkness outside erupted with sound.
WHOOP-WHOOP!
A blinding flash of red and blue light slammed through the dining room windows as the police cruiser from the front yard whipped around the gravel driveway, headlights pinning Tyler against the dining room wall like a bug under a microscope.
“POLICE! DROP IT! DON'T MOVE!” Detective Miller’s voice bellowed through a bullhorn from the backyard.
Tyler spun around in sheer panic, dropping the nylon cord as two uniformed officers swarmed through the shattered patio door with tasers drawn.
“Get down on the ground! Hands behind your back now!”
Before Tyler could even raise his arms, he was slammed facedown onto the hardwood floor, a knee pressed firmly between his shoulder blades as the cold steel of handcuffs clicked securely around his wrists.
Detective Miller stepped through the broken glass, his service weapon holstered, his face grim as he looked down at the teenage intruder. Then he looked up at me standing in the hallway, the heavy brass poker still gripped in my hand.
“You okay, Mrs. Hayes?” Miller asked.
May you like
I lowered the poker slowly, letting out a long, shuddering breath that felt like it had been trapped in my chest for days.
“Never better, Detective,” I said, my voice steady as stone. “Now let’s go find his brother.”
