Chapter 3 - The Stranger
My lungs burned as I sprinted down the off-ramp toward my neighborhood.
"Where are you right now?" I asked Derek.
"I'm crouched behind the kitchen island," he replied.
"Travis is unconscious next to me."
"Can you see the shooter?" I asked.
"Yeah," Derek said softly.
"He's wearing a heavy jacket and a ski mask."
"He just kicked the closet door open, but Noah isn't in there."
Relief washed over me for a fraction of a second.
Noah was a smart kid, and he knew all the best hiding spots in that house.
"The police are still five minutes out," I told him, relaying the update I just got from the 911 dispatcher on my other line.
"We don't have five minutes," Derek said.
"The guy is tearing the house apart."
"He's looking for something specific," Derek observed.
"He keeps asking where Lena hid the bag."
I stopped running for a second to catch my breath.
"Lena's bag?" I asked, utterly confused.
"Why would an armed stranger be looking for my ex-wife's bag?"
Before Derek could answer, a loud, terrified squeak echoed through the phone.
It was the sound of the squeaky floorboard in the upstairs hallway.
"He heard it," Derek hissed.
"The guy with the gun is heading for the stairs."
"I have to move."
"Don't let him get up there!" I yelled.
"I won't," Derek promised.
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Then I heard Derek let out a vicious battle cry as he charged out of his hiding spot.
The phone hit the floor, leaving me listening to the brutal sounds of a fistfight.
