Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the Driveway
The dial tone hummed in my ear like a live wire.
My stomach plummeted, the fresh surgical incisions beneath my blouse suddenly pulling with a sharp, burning ache. I looked toward the living room. Everly was sitting on the rug, coloring a picture of a blue cat with pink polka dots, completely oblivious to the venom that had just been poured into my ear.
I didn't hesitate. I dialed 911.
"911, what is your emergency?" a calm dispatcher’s voice answered.
"My name is Joslyn Hayes. I have an active restraining order against a man named Randy Brooks. He just called my private cell phone threatening to come to my house and harm me and my four-year-old daughter. My address is 442 Elmwood Drive."
"Officers are being dispatched to your location immediately, Mrs. Hayes," the dispatcher said, her voice shifting into tactical precision. "Keep your doors locked, stay away from the windows, and do not open the door for anyone except a uniformed police officer identifying themselves."
"Hurry," I whispered, hanging up the phone.
I walked quickly into the living room, crouching down beside Everly. I kept my voice even, refusing to let the panic bleeding through my veins reach her ears.
"Honey, listen to Mommy," I said, taking her small hands. "We're going to play a special game. We're going to go into my bedroom, lock the door, and sit on the big bed together. You can bring your bunny and your coloring book."
Everly looked up, sensing the urgency in my posture even if she didn't understand the words. "Are the bad people coming back?"
"Mommy's taking care of everything, sweetie. Let's go right now."
We hurried down the hall into my master bedroom. I locked the heavy wooden door behind us, shoved a heavy oak armchair against the knob for good measure, and pulled my cell phone from my pocket. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped the phone on the carpet twice before picking it back up.
I checked the front window overlooking the driveway through the blinds.
The street was dark, illuminated only by the amber glow of the municipal streetlight across the road. For two minutes, nothing moved. The silence in the house was absolute, broken only by Everly's soft breathing as she sat cross-legged on the mattress with her stuffed bunny clutched to her chest.
Then, the crunch of gravel sounded from the driveway.
A beat-up silver sedan rolled slowly past the edge of the window with its headlights off, coming to a halt near the side gate. The engine cut out.
A car door opened with a dull creak, followed by heavy, stumbling footsteps on the pavement.
My breath hitched. I pulled Everly off the edge of the bed and pushed her gently toward the walk-in closet in the corner of the room. "Get inside the closet, baby. Sit on the floor behind the winter coats and stay very, very quiet. Do not come out until I open the door and say your name. Understand?"
"Mommy, I'm scared," she whimpered, her eyes welling with tears.
"I am right outside, Everly. I love you more than anything in the world. Now go."
She scrambled into the darkness of the closet, pulling the sliding door almost shut. I turned around, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from my dresser, gripping it with both hands, and stood beside the bedroom door.
Thump. Thump.
Heavy fists pounded against the front door down the hall.
"Joslyn!" Randy's voice roared through the quiet house, slurred, angry, and violent. "Open the fucking door! You think you can put me in cuffs? Open the door before I kick it in!"
The sound of wood splintering echoed from the entryway. He wasn't just knocking anymore; he was throwing his weight against the front door, trying to shatter the deadbolt.
"Open up, you ungrateful bitch!"
I raised the brass candlestick, stepping away from the wall to face the bedroom entrance. If he made it down this hallway, he would have to go through me first.
Suddenly, the front door gave way with a resounding crash that rattled the picture frames on my walls.
"Police! Drop to the ground! Hands behind your back!"
Shouting voices filled the living room. Heavy boots thudded against the hardwood floor. A scuffle ensued—furniture sliding, angry shouts, a muffled curse, and the unmistakable metallic click of handcuffs snapping into place.
"Clear!" a voice yelled from the hallway. "Suspect is in custody!"
I stood frozen in the center of the bedroom, the brass candlestick still clutched in my trembling hands, waiting until a heavy knock sounded on my locked bedroom door.
"Mrs. Hayes? It's Officer Miller, precinct backup. The suspect is restrained. You and your daughter are safe to come out."
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The adrenaline drained out of me all at once, leaving my legs weak and shaky. I dropped the candlestick onto the carpet, unlocked the bedroom door, and pulled it open to reveal two uniformed officers standing in the hall.
And from the darkness of the closet, a small voice called out: "Mommy?"
