Paul laughed and pulled a gun from his waistband, as well. “Did you try the door? It’s probably unlocked.”
It was true that most residents around town didn’t concern themselves with that sort of thing. But I could always hear Holt’s voice in my head. “Want to hear that lock click.”
He hated that my parents left me alone so much. Had drilled it into my head time and again to check all the doors and windows before going to bed. Over time, it had become a habit. A compulsion. I locked every door after I entered. Drove Grae crazy that she couldn’t waltz right in—until I’d eventually given her a key.
My heart hammered against my ribs as my fingers skittered across my phone’s screen. It took four tries to hit those three little numbers. Nine. One. One.
“Cedar Ridge police, fire, and medical. What’s your emergency?”
“T-there are two guys trying to get into my house. They have guns,” I whispered.
“Damn. It’s locked.” I heard Randy mutter.
Paul sighed and bent over, searching the stoop. “There has to be a key hidden somewhere.”
“Who am I speaking to, and where are you located?”
“Wren Williams.” I rattled off my address.
“Wren, it’s Abel. I’m gonna get you some help. You just stick with me. Are you somewhere safe?”
I gripped the curtains as I watched Paul and Randy making their way around the house. Each step brought them closer to that damn ceramic frog my mom kept on the back deck, the one with the key underneath just for emergencies.
“They’re looking for the key.” My voice trembled as they disappeared from sight. Maybe I should make a run for it. But my closest neighbor was half a mile away. It would only take one lucky shot to make me regret taking that chance.
“Is there one outside?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“I want you to hide, Wren. The place they’d be least likely to look.”
My mind spun. How many times had Grae and I played hide-and-seek in this house as kids? Too many to count. I knew every nook and cranny. Yet I couldn’t get my brain to cooperate.
“Wren?” Abel pressed.
“I-I don’t know where to go.”
“How about an attic or crawl space? A closet? Or under a bed?”
A series of images flashed through my mind. Options. Not the attic. The door was too obvious. The entrance to the crawl space was downstairs. I couldn’t risk it. The thought of shoving myself under a bed had my chest constricting.
It had to be a closet. I started moving. Mine would be one of the first places they’d look. I wanted to go to my parents’ and surround myself with their familiar scents, but I forced myself to go the other way to the second guest room.
Panic licked through my veins as I scanned the space. None of the closets provided much protection or disguise. They would be too easy to search.
I darted back into the hall and went to the guest bathroom. I pulled open the cabinet under the sink. Setting the phone down, I hurried to empty it of its smattering of contents. I quickly shoved them into one of the drawers.
Grabbing my phone, I crawled under the sink. I’d always been of average height and glad of it, thankful that I blended into the background. But right then, I would’ve given anything to be petite like Grae.
I pulled the doors closed, but they didn’t quite make it. I shoved myself harder against the back wall.
Abel’s voice cut across the line. “Wren, where are you?”
“The bathroom. The guest bathroom. In the hall. Under the sink. How long till the police get here?”
Part of me hoped it would be Holt’s oldest brother, Lawson, who responded to the call. The other half wanted him nowhere near this.
The dispatcher was quiet on the other end of the line for a moment.