Chapter 8 - The Sledgehammer’s Blow
Thud.
The first sledgehammer blow hit the front door with enough kinetic force to vibrate the floorboards beneath Lisa’s slippers. The solid oak groaned, and a shower of fine wood dust drifted down from the upper frame like winter snow.
Arthur looked across the island at Lisa, his bushy white eyebrows raised in silent question.
Lisa gave him a single, imperceptible nod.
Thud.
A second blow landed right beside the brass handle. The decorative brass trim splintered into jagged shards of metal and wood, clattering loudly against the porch concrete.
“That’s it, smash it down!” Sarah was screaming in the background. “She’s trapped inside, senile and dangerous! We’re rescuing her!”
Lisa set her coffee mug down on the quartz countertop with a soft, decisive click. She stood up, smoothing the front of her sweater with cool, unhurried hands.
Behind her, Arthur rose slowly from his chair, cracking his massive knuckles with a sound like pistol shots.
Outside, David lifted the heavy iron hammer for a third swing, grunting with the physical effort.
Lisa walked down the long, sunlit hallway, her footsteps steady and firm. She reached out and placed her hand directly on the cold steel of the new deadbolt.
Arthur’s deep, rumbling voice came from directly behind her shoulder.
“Let them try,” Arthur murmured, a grim, satisfied smile playing across his weathered lips. “I’ll handle this.”
May you like
Lisa didn't hesitate.
She twisted the heavy steel deadbolt open with a crisp, mechanical click.
