Chapter 3 - The Three-State Lifeline
Hundreds of miles away, in a brightly lit living room in Virginia, Sarah was not panicking. She was operating on pure, cold adrenaline.
The moment the line went dead, she didn't call me back. She knew ringing the phone would only aggravate an intruder. Instead, she bypassed the standard 911 system—which would only connect to her local Virginia dispatch—and dialed the direct ten-digit emergency line for the Elmwood County Sheriff’s Office. She had kept it saved in her contacts for four years.
"Elmwood Dispatch, Operator 4," the voice answered.
"This is Sarah Pendelton. I have a priority one home invasion in progress at 442 Sycamore Drive. My father, Arthur Pendelton, is inside with an intruder."
"Ma'am, how do you know—"
"I was on the phone with him," Sarah interrupted, her voice snapping with absolute authority. "He used our duress code. He explicitly mentioned Deputy Miller. The intruder is a male, likely armed. My father is seventy-one. You need to roll units right now with lights and sirens, but cut the sirens one block out."
The dispatcher's keyboard clacked rapidly. "Units are rolling, ma'am. Stay on the line."
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Sarah paced her living room, her fingernails biting into her palms. She had spent years answering calls just like this, listening to the worst moments of people's lives. But this was her dad. The man who had taught her how to ride a bike, how to drive a stick shift, and how to stay calm in a crisis.
Hold on, Dad, she prayed silently. Just hold on for five more minutes.
