Chapter 28 - Headlights in the Dark
The harsh glare of headlights swept across the kitchen ceiling, painting the shattered glass on the floor in an eerie, dancing light.
We all froze. Emily instinctively pulled me back, her hand gripping my forearm. "Get down!" she hissed, ducking behind the kitchen island.
I didn't duck. I gently untangled Logan's arms from around my waist, pushing him safely behind me toward Emily. "Stay with him," I ordered, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register that left no room for argument.
I grabbed the heavy iron skillet sitting on the back burner of the stove—the only heavy object within arm's reach—and crept silently toward the shattered sliding glass door. The wind howled through the opening, carrying the bitter scent of melting snow and exhaust fumes.
I peered out onto the dark back deck.
A large, black SUV was idling at the edge of our unpaved back driveway, its engine rumbling low and deep against the quiet suburban night. The driver’s side door was open, and a figure was stepping out into the snow, silhouetted against the bright high beams.
It wasn't Arthur Vance. This man was taller, broader, wearing a heavy tactical jacket with the collar turned up high.
"Who's out there?!" I shouted, stepping out through the shattered glass onto the freezing wooden deck, raising the iron skillet high in my hand.
The man by the SUV stopped dead in his tracks. He turned slowly, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding glare of his own vehicle's headlights. As he stepped closer to the edge of the deck, the porch light caught his face, and my breath caught in my throat.
It wasn't Arthur. It was a face I recognized instantly from old family photo albums—a face I hadn't seen in over three years.
Ethan.
Sarah’s brother. Looking older, gaunter, his eyes hollow and darting around like a trapped animal's, but unmistakably him.
"Ethan?" I breathed, lowering the skillet a fraction of an inch, sheer disbelief overriding my anger. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Ethan stopped at the bottom of the wooden steps, panting heavily as if he had run a marathon through the snow. He held his hands up defensively, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
"Paul," Ethan gasped, his voice trembling violently as he clutched his chest. "Thank God I made it in time. Is Logan okay? Is Sarah inside?"
Before I could answer, the back door flew open behind me, and Sarah burst out onto the deck, wrapped in her fleece bathrobe, her eyes wild with terror.
"Ethan?!" she screamed, stumbling down the wooden steps and throwing herself at her brother, grabbing him by the jacket. "Are you out of your mind?! What are you doing here?! Arthur Vance is watching this house! He was just in our kitchen!"
Ethan grabbed Sarah's shoulders, shaking her gently as he looked down at her with frantic, desperate eyes. "I know he's here, Sarah. That's why I came back. I saw him at the diner three miles down the road. He’s not just here to scare us anymore. He’s done playing games."
I stepped forward, the iron skillet still gripped tightly in my hand, my patience worn completely down to the bone. "What are you talking about, Ethan? What does Arthur want?"
Ethan looked up at me, his face pale and twisted with absolute dread. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly.
"He doesn't just want revenge on me, Paul," Ethan whispered, the wind carrying his words away into the dark night. "He set a trap tonight. Not for me. Not for Sarah. For Logan."
May you like
Before Ethan could finish his sentence, a loud, ear-splitting crash echoed from the front of the house, followed instantly by the blaring wail of our home security system's panic alarm.
***
