Chapter 3 - Footsteps in the Cellar
The air in the study turned instantly frigid. Officer Briggs stepped inside, one hand instinctively unbuttoning his holster.
"Did you hear that?" Briggs whispered, gesturing for both women to remain behind him.
The basement door at the far end of the hallway stood slightly ajar. A draft drifted upward, carrying the stale smell of damp concrete and metallic copper. Lena clutched the life insurance policy against her chest, her mind spinning between her mother’s denial and the chilling sound below.
"Stay here," Briggs ordered quietly. He drew his sidearm, keeping it low, and edged along the corridor.
Lena watched his reflection in the hallway mirror. As Briggs pushed the heavy cellar door open, the hinges groaned in the stillness. He flicked on his tactical flashlight, the beam slicing through dust motes before descending into the darkness.
"Police department. Whoever is down there, step out with your hands visible!"
Silence stretched. Then came a sudden scuffle, followed by the deafening crack of a gunshot that shattered the silence of the house.
Eleanor screamed, pulling Lena down behind the massive mahogany desk. A second shot followed, then the heavy, wet sound of a body collapsing against the wooden steps.
"Briggs!" Eleanor cried out, covering her mouth as panic overwhelmed her.
Heavy, hurried footsteps pounded up the basement stairs. Lena held her breath, peering through the kneehole of the desk. A tall figure stepped into the ambient hallway light. It wasn't Briggs. The man wore dark tactical gear, a ballistic vest, and a reinforced balaclava covering his face. In his left hand, he held a suppressed automatic pistol; in his right, a ruggedized hard drive torn straight from the house’s central security server.
He didn't search the rooms. He paused at the study threshold, glancing down at the scattered papers on the floor. His gaze landed on the open floor safe, then flicked toward the desk where Lena and Eleanor cowered.
Instead of firing, the intruder pulled a two-way radio from his chest rig and clicked the transmitter twice.
"Asset secured," a raspy voice muttered through the mask. "The clean-up crew needs to burn the perimeter now. The daughter knows too much."
May you like
He turned and bolted toward the rear terrace, smashing the glass patio doors as he vanished into the tree line.
From the cellar stairwell, a faint groan echoed. Officer Briggs was still alive, but barely. And from outside, the unmistakable hiss of a smoke grenade bounced off the front porch siding.
