Chapter 11 - The Empty Driveway
Arthur scrambled out of the dark pit, gasping for the cool night air as his hands scraped against the rough concrete edge.
He didn't waste a second; he dropped back down halfway into the opening and reached out his arms toward the dark depths.
"Give me your hands, Lily! I've got you!" he called out, his voice breathless and ragged.
A moment later, small, trembling hands grasped his fingers, and Arthur hoisted his daughter out of the cellar, pulling her tight against his chest.
"We're safe, we're getting out of here right now," he panted, carrying her across the grass toward the garage apron.
The gleaming set of car keys Elena had left behind sat right on the corner of the concrete step, catching the moonlight like a silver beacon.
Arthur snatched the keys off the concrete, his fingers fumbling with the metal ring as he rushed toward his sedan parked in the driveway.
He unlocked the doors with a frantic beep, pulled the back door open, and strapped Lily into her car seat with trembling hands.
"Hold on to Mr. Whiskers tightly, sweetheart, we're going to Grandma's house," Arthur lied smoothly, slamming the door shut and running around to the driver's side.
He slid behind the steering wheel, jammed the key into the ignition, and twisted it hard to the right.
The dashboard lights flickered to life for a split second before dying out completely, accompanied by a faint, metallic click from under the hood.
Arthur turned the key again, harder this time, but the engine didn't even attempt to turn over—the battery was completely dead.
He cursed loudly, slamming his palm against the steering wheel in a burst of helpless fury as the reality of the trap set in.
The car doors suddenly locked with a heavy, synchronous thud, the automatic security system engaging on its own accord.
The headlights flashed once, twice, blindingly bright in the dark driveway, illuminating the front porch of the house.
Standing right there under the porch light, wearing the silky gold wrap dress she had worn at dinner, was Elena.
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She wasn't holding a weapon or a flashlight; instead, she was holding a heavy manila folder and a ringing landline telephone receiver, waving it slowly toward the car.
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