PART 3
I immediately silenced the phone.
The front door was controlled by an app Derek had insisted on installing after we bought the house. He always said it was for our safety. Suddenly, it felt like a prison.
I forced myself to breathe.
“Back door,” I whispered.
We ran through the kitchen.
The sliding glass door overlooked our backyard and the woods beyond. I unlocked it, slid it open—
Nothing.
It moved barely an inch before stopping.
Outside, a thick steel rod had been inserted through the track.
Someone had blocked it from the outside.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Lily buried her face against my side.
“I told you,” she sobbed.
I dropped to my knees in front of her.
“Honey, listen to me carefully. Did Daddy say what was going to happen?”
She nodded through tears.
“I woke up because I wanted water. Daddy was downstairs.”
Her tiny voice trembled.
“He said… ‘She’ll be making breakfast around nine. After the gas fills the house, one spark is enough.’”
Every muscle in my body froze.
Gas.
I turned instinctively toward the stove.
The burners were off.
But that meant nothing.
Natural gas had no color. Only the chemical odor they added to it.
And suddenly…
I smelled it.
Faint.
Like rotten eggs.
“Oh my God.”
I grabbed Lily’s hand and rushed toward the laundry room where the main gas shutoff valve was located.
The smell grew stronger with every step.
When I opened the utility closet, cold panic swept over me.
The flexible gas line had been loosened.
Not completely disconnected.
Just enough to leak.
Someone had done it deliberately.
I slammed the valve shut with shaking hands.
The hissing stopped.
For several seconds neither of us moved.
Then I realized something even worse.
If Derek had planned an explosion…
Someone might still be coming.
I locked every interior door and pulled the curtains closed.
My phone showed one bar of signal.
I dialed 911.
Nothing.
Call failed.
Again.
Failed.
Our neighborhood sat on the edge of a wooded valley where reception was always unreliable. Derek used to joke that it was “the perfect place to disappear from the world.”
The joke no longer sounded funny.
I opened the emergency contacts and called my older brother, Mason.
Straight to voicemail.
Before I could leave a message, another notification appeared.
Unknown Number
Stay inside. It will all be over soon.
I stopped breathing.
Lily looked up.
“Who is it?”
I couldn’t answer.
Whoever sent that message knew we were still in the house.
I slowly peeked through the living-room curtains.
A white utility van was parked across the street.
No company logo.
Just white.
A man wearing a reflective vest stepped out carrying a clipboard.
He walked casually toward our mailbox.
Then he looked directly at the front window.
Not at the house.
At our window.
I pulled the curtain shut.
“He’s here.”
Lily whispered, “That’s the man Daddy talked to.”
My pulse exploded.
“How do you know?”
“He has the same beard.”
Children notice details adults ignore.
I believed her.
There was only one way out that Derek never knew about.
When we renovated the basement two years earlier, the contractor had discovered an old storm tunnel built in the 1950s. It connected the cellar to a drainage ditch nearly two hundred yards into the woods.
Derek had called it useless.
I remembered exactly where it was.
“Come on.”
We hurried downstairs.
The basement smelled of concrete and old paint.
Behind a shelf of Christmas decorations was a narrow wooden hatch.
I shoved the shelf aside.
It refused to move.
Something heavy had been placed against it.
No…
Not against it.
On top of it.
From above.
Someone had entered the basement before.
My skin crawled.
Lily tugged my sleeve.
“Mommy…”
Footsteps.
Not inside.
Outside.
Directly above us.
Slow.
Measured.
The front porch.
Someone was at the door.
A loud knock echoed through the house.
Three knocks.
Then silence.
Another knock.
“Mrs. Harper?” a man called warmly.
“This is City Utilities. We’ve had reports of a gas leak.”
Lily’s fingernails dug into my arm.
The gas leak.
They knew.
I covered her mouth gently before she could make a sound.
The man knocked again.
“Ma’am? We just need you to unlock the door.”
His voice sounded almost friendly.
Too friendly.
I remembered Derek’s text.
Security company.
Now utility company.
Two different stories.
It was a lie.
The doorknob rattled.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
A second voice spoke outside, quieter.
“She’s in there.”
I couldn’t hear the reply.
Then footsteps moved away.
I waited.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
Nothing.
Had they left?
Or were they waiting?
The basement hatch still wouldn’t budge.
I searched frantically until I found the contractor’s old toolbox.
Inside was a crowbar.
I wedged it beneath the hatch.
Pushed.
Wood cracked.
Again.
Harder.
With a deafening snap, the hatch lifted three inches.
Fresh air rushed in from the tunnel.
“Yes,” I whispered.
I pulled with everything I had.
The opening became wide enough for Lily.
“You go first.”
She crawled into the darkness.
I handed her the flashlight.
“Don’t stop until I tell you.”
Just as I climbed inside, a tremendous crash shook the house.
The front door.
Someone had broken it open.
Heavy footsteps thundered across the hardwood floor upstairs.
“Search every room!”
A man shouted.
Lily’s eyes widened in terror.
I lowered the hatch as quietly as possible.
Dust drifted from the ceiling.
We crawled through the narrow tunnel on our hands and knees, the flashlight beam bouncing over damp stone walls.
Behind us…
Another crash.
The basement door.
They were coming down.
Lily whispered through tears, “Mommy… they found us.”
I looked back into the darkness.
A thin line of light suddenly appeared beneath the hatch.
Someone had opened the basement.
Then I heard Derek’s unmistakable voice echo through the concrete tunnel.
“She couldn’t have gone far. Find my wife… and bring my daughter back alive.”
PART 4
Derek’s voice echoed through the tunnel like a nightmare refusing to end.
“She couldn’t have gone far. Find my wife… and bring my daughter back alive.”
Alive.
He hadn’t said us.
He had said my daughter.
Every instinct in my body screamed that Lily and I were no longer running from an accident—we were running from my own husband.