Chapter 14 - SIEGE ON ELM STREET
Z
I moved silently through the dark kitchen toward the back door, keeping my body low beneath the level of the counters. The floorboards creaked softly under my weight, but the men outside were moving with practiced, tactical precision.
Through the window of the back door, I saw a tall man wearing a dark tactical jacket and earpiece stepping onto my back porch. He held a high-powered flashlight in one hand and a heavy iron crowbar in the other. He wasn't waiting for midnight. They were breaching the house now.
I didn't have a weapon, but I knew every inch of this house better than any intruder.
I grabbed a heavy cast-iron skillet from the stove, slipped into the dark pantry beside the back door, and held my breath.
The glass window of the back door shattered with a muted pop. A gloved hand reached through the broken frame, unlocked the deadbolt from the inside, and pushed the door open. The intruder stepped into the dark kitchen, sweeping his flashlight beam across the cabinets and refrigerator.
As he passed the pantry door, I stepped out into the dark and swung the cast-iron skillet with all my strength.
The heavy iron hit his tactical helmet with a dull crack. The man stumbled sideways, his flashlight clattering onto the linoleum floor. Before he could recover, I grabbed his tactical vest, drove my shoulder into his chest, and shoved him backward out the open doorway into the yard.
I slammed the heavy wooden back door, threw the secondary sliding bolt, and bolted toward the basement door near the hallway.
Shouts erupted outside. Flashlight beams cut through the living room windows as two more men kicked through the front door, shattering the frame.
"Search the ground floor!" a harsh, rough voice barked. "Find the case! Check the basement!"
I slipped down the wooden basement steps into total darkness. The air was cool and smelled of damp mortar and old coal dust. I ran toward the far corner where an old, rusted coal chute led up through the foundation wall directly into the narrow crawlspace under my backyard deck.
Heavy boots slammed against the floorboards directly above my head. They were in the living room now, kicking open closet doors and tearing down drywall.
I shoved the green waterproof case through the narrow metal flap of the coal chute, then scrambled up the narrow ledge, squeezing my shoulders through the rusted iron opening.
Just as my feet cleared the chute, the basement door at the top of the stairs blew open with a loud bang. A bright flashlight beam flooded down the stairs.
"He's in the basement!" a voice roared.
I pulled myself through the chute into the dark space beneath the deck, grabbed the green case, and crawled frantically through the dirt toward the wooden lattice fence bordering the alleyway.
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Outside in the street, tires shrieked against the asphalt. Red and blue emergency lights flashed through the trees as two unmarked SUVs slammed to a halt outside my front yard.
Agent Sarah Miller had arrived—and she hadn't come alone.
