Chapter 3

Aunt Luna slid down the face of the cabinet. Her thin blouse was already soaked with sweat.

Her hands shook violently as she pulled up the dialpad on her phone. She called Uncle Ethan.

They had just finalized their divorce a few months ago. The long distance had finally worn them out, but there was no bad blood between them. Ethan was still her primary emergency contact. Deep down, when pure panic set in, he was still the only person she instinctively trusted to keep her safe.

It rang twice.

"Luna?" Ethan's voice was loud over the heavy background noise of a construction site. "What's wrong? You never call me while I'm on shift."

"Ethan," Aunt Luna gasped. Her voice completely broke. "There's a handyman here. He... he cut the power. The whole house just went black. And he just tried to pick the front door lock."

"What?" Ethan's tone dropped instantly. "Are you looking at him right now?"

"No, I blocked the door. I shoved the shoe cabinet in the way. I heard him walk down the steps, but Ethan, I'm so scared—"

"Stop talking and listen to me," Ethan cut her off. His voice was hard and commanding. "Do not open that door for anybody. Hook the chain, throw the deadbolt, whatever you have. Grab Stella and get as far away from the front of the house as you can."

"Okay. Okay, I did."

"I'm hanging up to dial 911," Ethan said. A powerful truck engine roared to life on his end. "I'm leaving the site right now. Run upstairs. Get into the master bedroom and lock the door. I am coming, Luna. Just hold on."

The line clicked dead.

Aunt Luna dropped the phone into her pocket. She grabbed my hand tight. "Come on, baby. Upstairs."

But my feet felt like they were cemented to the floorboards. 

The front door.

Why would he just walk away? He knew it was just a young woman and a five-year-old kid inside. He knew the power was out. He knew we were trapped. 

Then, it hit me. A memory from my previous life struck my brain so hard my ears actually rang. 

The black-and-white text from the police report flashed right behind my eyes. He didn't come through the front door.

The front door was just a distraction to keep Aunt Luna focused on the hallway. 

This neighborhood was built on a steep hill. The front door was street level, but the backyard completely dropped off. The kitchen was technically three stories up from the grass out back. 

Right outside the kitchen window was a narrow concrete maintenance ledge meant for servicing the heavy A/C units. That ledge connected directly to an exterior utility room at the end of the building. 

A utility room the HOA had promised to fix a year ago. A door with a busted deadbolt. 

Everyone thought the third-floor windows were completely safe. Nobody could climb up that high. But Jake Dalton wasn't a random burglar. He was a handyman. He had scoped this place out for weeks. He knew the layout, and he had already measured the ledge.

"The window!" I screamed. 

I gave a violent jerk, ripping my small hand right out of Luna's grip. I didn't run for the stairs. I turned and bolted straight down the hall toward the back of the house.

"Stella!" Aunt Luna shrieked, totally panicked by my sudden movement. "No! Come back here!"

I didn't stop. I hit the kitchen tiles, sliding in my socks. 

The kitchen was suffocatingly hot and pitch black without the overhead lights. The only light came from the single sliding window right above the sink. 

I looked up. 

Click.

The metal lock on the window just flipped open. 

Someone on the outside had slid a thin metal putty knife through the gap and popped the latch. 

"Auntie!" I choked out, pointing. "The window!"

Aunt Luna rushed into the kitchen, entirely breathless. She looked at me first, ready to grab me, but then her eyes tracked exactly where my shaking finger was pointing. 

She froze. 

A thick, filthy gray work glove slipped into the crack between the glass and the frame.

The window screeched loudly as it slid upward. 

Jake Dalton crouched on the narrow ledge outside. 

His polite, smiling, customer-service mask was totally gone. His eyes were wide, scanning the dark kitchen until they locked onto us. 

His face was dead flat. 

"Why are you hiding?" he muttered. His voice was low, raspy, and furious. "I told you. I'm just here to fix the A/C."

Aunt Luna lunged forward, grabbing the back collar of my shirt and yanking me backward so violently I almost tripped over my own feet. 

"Run!" she yelled. 

She shoved me hard toward the hallway stairs. She used her own body as a physical shield between me and the kitchen, pushing me forward. 

We scrambled toward the wooden steps, hands and knees hitting the hard floor. 

Right as we hit the bottom stair, a horrible, heavy THUD vibrated through the floorboards behind us. 

He was inside.