Chapter 6 - The Darkest Night Before Dawn
The rain fell in relentless, heavy sheets over Greenfield on Wednesday night, transforming the streets into dark, reflective rivers.
It was 11:30 PM. Macy was fast asleep in her bedroom upstairs. I was sitting at the kitchen island, going over legal affidavits Eileen had emailed me earlier that evening, when the house suddenly went pitch black.
The hum of the refrigerator died. The air conditioning cut off.
I froze.
I looked out the window. The streetlights outside were still glowing bright, and the lights in Sarah’s house across the street were on.
It wasn't a neighborhood power outage.
My power line had been cut.
Panic hit me like an electric shock. My breath hitched in my throat as I reached for my cell phone on the counter.
No signal.
A cell signal jammer.
Suddenly, from the back porch, came the distinct, horrifying sound of shattered glass.
CRASH.
My heart surged into my throat. I grabbed a heavy iron skillet from the stovetop, my hands shaking uncontrollably, and ducked behind the kitchen island.
Heavy, slow footsteps echoed across the hardwood dining room floor.
"Audrey..."
The voice was low, raspy, and unhinged.
It was Patrick.
"I know you're in here, Audrey," he hissed, his shadow stretching long across the floorboards as he moved through the darkness, illuminated only by the flashes of lightning outside the window. "You ruined everything. My job, my reputation, my money... Vance dropped me this afternoon! The firm suspended me!"
I held my breath, pressing my back firmly against the wooden cabinets, clutching the iron skillet against my chest. My mind raced—I had to get to Macy’s room upstairs. I couldn't let him get near her.
"You thought you were so clever with that damn tablet!" Patrick snarled, his footsteps growing closer to the kitchen. "You turned my own daughter against me! But it ends tonight. You’re going to hand over those backup hard drives, Audrey. You’re going to call Eileen and tell her you made it all up!"
"Patrick, stop!" I screamed, stepping out from behind the island, raising the skillet in front of me.
He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen.
He looked terrifying. His suit was drenched in rain, his hair matted to his forehead, his eyes wild, bloodshot, and sunken. In his right hand, he was holding a heavy steel crowbar.
"Stay back!" I yelled, my voice trembling with terrifying adrenaline. "The police are on their way!"
"Liars!" Patrick roared, taking a step toward me. "There’s no cell service within two hundred yards of this house! I turned off the power! Nobody is coming to save you!"
He lunged forward, swinging the crowbar toward my head.
I ducked, the heavy metal missing my ear by inches and smashing into the quartz countertop with a deafening crack. I swung the skillet with all the strength in my body, striking him hard across the side of his shoulder.
Patrick grunted in pain, stumbling back, but he didn't fall. His face twisted into a mask of pure rage. He grabbed my wrist, twisting it violently until the skillet clattered to the floor.
He shoved me backward. I slammed hard against the dining room table, gasping for air as pain exploded through my ribs.
"You ruined my life!" Patrick screamed, towering over me, raising the crowbar high above his head.
"Daddy, STOP!"
A high-pitched scream echoed from the top of the stairs.
Patrick froze.
Standing at the top of the staircase was Macy. She was wearing her pink pajamas, holding her small bedside lamp like a weapon, her face pale with horror, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Macy, go back to your room!" I screamed, trying to scramble up from the floor. "Run!"
"Macy..." Patrick’s voice faltered for a second as he looked up at his daughter.
That split second of hesitation was all I needed.
I kicked out with both legs, hitting Patrick squarely in the knees. He lost his balance, tumbling backward and crashing heavily against the glass patio door.
At that exact moment, bright red and blue lights illuminated the rain-slicked windows outside.
High-powered flashlights beamed through the living room glass, followed by the thunderous boom of the front door being kicked off its hinges.
"POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR! DROP THE WEAPON!"
Four armed police officers rushed into the house, their weapons raised, filling the room with blinding light.
Patrick tried to scramble up, but two officers tackled him to the floor, forcing his arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
"Audrey!" Sarah, my neighbor, came bursting through the front door behind the officers, breathless and sobbing. "I saw someone lurking around your power box with a flashlight! I called 911 immediately!"
Patrick was dragged to his feet, his face pressed against the floorboards, covered in dust and glass shards. He glared at me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"You'll pay for this, Audrey!" he spat, blood trickling from his lip. "You hear me? You'll pay for this!"
"Take him away," the police sergeant ordered coldly.
May you like
As the officers hauled Patrick out into the pouring rain and thrust him into the back of a squad car, I ran up the stairs and scooped Macy into my arms.
We sat together on the top step, wrapped in a blanket, held tight in each other's arms as the red and blue emergency lights flashed across the walls, washing away the dark shadows once and for all.
