Everyone jumped. I looked through the large front window. A black, heavily tinted SUV had just pulled into my driveway, blocking my sedan. The engine was idling.
Sarah scrambled to her feet. She wasn’t looking at me anymore. She was staring through the window at the black vehicle, pure, unfiltered terror radiating from her eyes.
“David,” she whispered, her voice shaking so violently I could barely hear her. “You don’t understand. If I don’t bring her out there right now, they’re going to come inside.”
— CHAPTER 2 —
I didn’t wait to see who was stepping out of that vehicle.
I grabbed the heavy oak front door and slammed it shut, throwing the deadbolt and sliding the chain into place. The sudden, violent sound echoed through the silent house, breaking the trance everyone had fallen into.
“Mark,” I snapped, keeping my eyes fixed on the peephole. “Get the kids upstairs. Now. Lock the bedroom door and do not open it for anyone but me.”
“On it,” Mark said. He didn’t ask questions. He scooped Mia into his arms, grabbed Leo by the shoulder, and rushed them up the stairs. Leo didn’t fight him this time; my son just kept his eyes locked on me, his face pale and terrified, until they disappeared around the landing.
“David, open the door!” Sarah screamed. She scrambled off the floor, leaving the pink suitcase behind, and lunged for the deadbolt. Her hands were shaking violently, smearing white frosting against the brass hardware. “You are going to get us killed! Open the door!”
I caught her by the shoulders and shoved her back hard. She stumbled, hitting the hallway console table. A vase wobbled and crashed to the hardwood floor, shattering into dozens of ceramic shards.
The party guests were in a full panic now. Two of the neighborhood moms were herding their own children toward the back sliding glass door.
“Call 911!” I shouted over my shoulder to anyone who was listening. “Tell them there’s a hostile vehicle outside and an attempted kidnapping!”
“No!” Sarah shrieked. She looked utterly deranged, her hair matted with cake, her eyes wide with a frantic, animalistic panic. “No police! David, please, you don’t understand the people we are dealing with!”
I looked through the peephole.
A man in a dark grey suit was walking up my driveway. He didn’t look like a doctor, and he didn’t look like a confused driver. He moved with a cold, calculated efficiency, his eyes scanning the windows of my house. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy black smartphone, tapping the screen before raising it to his ear.
Instantly, a phone began buzzing from inside Sarah’s dress pocket.
She froze. The ringing seemed louder than the police sirens that I could now hear wailing faintly in the distance. Someone in the kitchen had already made the call.
The man on my porch stopped. He tilted his head, listening to the approaching sirens. Without a single change in his expression, he turned around, walked briskly back to the tinted SUV, climbed inside, and threw it into reverse. The tires squealed against the asphalt as the vehicle shot out of my driveway and sped down the suburban street, disappearing around the corner long before the first squad car turned into our subdivision.
I backed away from the door, my chest heaving. The immediate physical threat was gone, but the nightmare inside my house was just beginning.
I turned to look at my wife.
