Chapter 2 - Voices Behind the Locked Door
Michael switched the call with Ethan to speaker mode and used the hotel phone to contact emergency services in his hometown.
The dispatcher answered immediately.
“What is the address of the emergency?”
Michael gave it so quickly that he nearly stumbled over the numbers.
“My wife is locked inside our bedroom. My six-year-old son is outside the door. He heard her screaming, and I can hear a man speaking inside the room.”
The dispatcher’s tone changed.
“Are you currently at the residence?”
“No. I’m in another city on a business trip.”
“Is your son alone in the apartment?”
“Yes.”
Michael hated saying the word.
It made the distance between them feel even more unbearable.
The dispatcher asked him not to disconnect from Ethan and transferred the information to officers already patrolling nearby.
Michael returned his full attention to the mobile phone.
“Ethan, are you still beside the wall?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Stay there. Don’t touch the door.”
Behind the bedroom door, Emily’s voice rose again.
“No! Please, you don’t understand!”
Then came a dull impact.
Something heavy struck the floor.
Ethan gasped.
“Dad, something fell.”
“I heard it.”
Michael pressed his hand against his forehead.
He wanted to tell his son to run outside, but if the man heard the front door open, he might come after him. He needed more information before making that choice.
Then the male voice became clearer.
“You should have told him years ago.”
Michael’s breath stopped.
Emily answered through tears.
“He was never supposed to know.”
The words confused him more than they frightened him.
Know what?
Who was the man?
Michael had expected the voice of a burglar, someone demanding money or threatening violence.
Instead, the stranger sounded calm.
Almost familiar.
“You kept the letters,” the man said.
“I destroyed them.”
“No, you didn’t.”
A drawer opened.
Paper rustled.
Michael felt the first cold edge of suspicion.
This was not a random invasion.
The man knew Emily.
He knew their bedroom.
He knew where she kept things.
Ethan whispered, “Dad, I can hear him moving.”
“Stay quiet.”
The sound of drawers being emptied continued.
Then Emily screamed again.
This time she shouted a name.
“Daniel, stop!”
Michael went completely still.
Daniel.
He knew that name.
Years earlier, before their wedding, Emily had once mentioned a cousin named Daniel who had disappeared after a family argument. She had never explained the details. Whenever Michael asked, she changed the subject.
But that Daniel was supposed to be dead.
At least, that was what Emily had told him.
“Ethan,” Michael whispered, “the police are coming.”
“How soon?”
“Very soon.”
At that moment, a floorboard creaked directly beside the bedroom door.
The handle moved once.
Slowly.
Ethan stopped breathing.
Michael heard it clearly through the phone.
The lock clicked.
The door began to open.
“Run,” Michael said.
Ethan did not hesitate.
Tiny footsteps raced down the hallway.
Behind him, a man shouted.
“Who’s there?”
Michael heard Ethan sob.
Then the phone struck something, and the call filled with static.
“Ethan!”
No answer.
May you like
“Ethan!”
The line remained connected, but all Michael could hear was movement, breathing, and the terrifying sound of someone following his son through the apartment.
