Chapter 12 - LOCK THE DOOR
Sarah slammed the office door and turned the lock.
“Move the desk!”
Eleanor grabbed one side.
They pushed.
The heavy wood scraped across the floor.
Outside, footsteps stopped.
Richard knocked.
Three gentle taps.
“Sarah?”
She said nothing.
“Come on. Let’s be adults.”
Sarah grabbed the fireplace poker.
Eleanor stared at her.
“You know how to use that?”
“No.”
Richard laughed from the hall.
“I can hear you breathing.”
Sarah tightened her grip.
“Go to hell.”
“There she is.”
Benjamin spoke next.
“Mom, open the door.”
Eleanor’s face twisted with pain.
“Why?”
“Because this doesn’t have to get worse.”
“You brought armed men into my house.”
“No one wants to hurt you.”
Sarah shouted,
“Someone shot at us this morning!”
Silence.
That silence answered everything.
Eleanor looked toward the window.
Second floor.
Too high to jump.
Sarah whispered,
“Is there another way out?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Bathroom.”
They moved quietly.
The office bathroom had a small service door leading into a storage corridor.
Eleanor opened it.
They slipped through.
Behind them, Richard slammed something against the office door.
BOOM.
“Faster,” Sarah whispered.
They moved down the narrow corridor.
At the end was a staircase.
Eleanor pointed.
“Garage.”
They started down.
Halfway there, a man appeared below.
Black jacket.
Gun.
Sarah stopped.
The man raised the weapon.
Then a loud crack exploded behind him.
He collapsed.
A security guard stood at the garage entrance holding a pistol.
“MOVE!”
Sarah and Eleanor ran.
The guard opened the garage door.
“Get in the SUV!”
They climbed inside.
The guard jumped behind the wheel.
As they reversed, Richard ran into the garage.
He threw himself aside as the SUV shot past.
Sarah looked back.
Richard pulled out his phone.
“He’s calling someone.”
The guard accelerated.
Eleanor’s voice shook.
“Where are we going?”
“Police station.”
Sarah grabbed her phone.
Signal returned.
Twenty missed calls.
Three from the hospital.
Sarah’s stomach dropped.
She called immediately.
A nurse answered.
“Mrs. Mitchell?”
“Yes! Is Owen okay?”
There was hesitation.
“Mrs. Mitchell, your son is not here.”
Sarah stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He left approximately twenty minutes ago.”
“With who?”
“A man identified himself as your brother.”
“I don’t have a brother.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
Sarah screamed,
“WHO TOOK MY SON?”
The nurse started crying.
“He had identification. He knew Owen’s date of birth. He knew your name.”
Sarah’s entire body shook.
A message arrived.
A photograph.
Owen sitting in the back seat of a car.
Terrified.
His hands tied.
Underneath were the words:
BRING THE DRIVE.
May you like
NO POLICE.
OR YOUR SON DOESN’T WALK AGAIN.
