● CHAPTER 4: The Daughter Across the Hall
Frank forgot every instruction at once.
The scream came short and broken, not the long dramatic sound people made in movies. It was a raw burst of fear that tore through the hallway and ended as if someone had covered Julia’s mouth.
Frank lunged for the door.
“Dad, no!” Mark snapped through the phone.
But Frank was already there, fingers on the lock.
Across the hall, Julia cried, “Evan, stop!”
Frank froze.
Evan was no longer outside Frank’s room.
The hallway light shifted as someone moved. Frank heard a thud, then Julia coughing, then Evan’s voice—low, controlled, furious in a way Frank had never heard before.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Frank pressed his forehead against the door, every instinct in him pulling toward his daughter. He could picture her room: pale curtains, the blue quilt Martha had sewn, the family photos on the dresser. Julia had returned to that room after her first marriage ended, telling Frank it would only be for a few weeks. She had cried there. He had brought tea to that room. He had watched her become herself again there.
Now Evan was inside it.
Mark’s voice became terrifyingly calm.
“Dad, keep the door locked. Put the phone near the crack. I need to hear.”
Frank crouched with a groan and held the phone near the bottom of the door.
Julia spoke again, quieter. “You’re hurting my arm.”
“I’m trying to protect this family,” Evan said.
“No, you’re trying to find Dad’s phone.”
Silence.
Frank’s eyes widened.
Julia knew.
Evan said, “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing. I woke up and you were standing over me.”
“You always were a poor liar.”
A drawer opened hard. Something spilled across the floor. Frank heard Julia suck in a breath as if she had been shoved back but not struck. He clenched his free hand into a fist so tight his nails cut his palm.
“Mark,” he whispered, “I’m going out there.”
“You go out there and he has two hostages instead of one.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And you’re my father,” Mark said. His voice cracked on the last word, just slightly. “Please. Trust me for once.”
For once.
The words landed in the old wound between them.
Frank had not trusted Mark when Mark first warned him about Evan months earlier. He had said his son saw criminals everywhere because he worked with them every day. He had accused Mark of resenting Evan because Evan was present while Mark was always away. The argument had ended with Mark standing in the kitchen doorway, jaw tight, saying, “I hope I’m wrong.”
Frank had replied, “So do I.”
Now Mark was not wrong.
Julia’s door opened across the hall.
Frank heard Evan step out, then Julia behind him. She was breathing hard.
“Frank,” Evan called, still trying to sound calm. “Julia is worried about you. Open the door so she can see you’re all right.”
Julia’s voice followed, and Frank heard the fear hidden inside it.
“Dad, don’t open it.”
Evan made a small sound, almost amused.
“Wrong choice, sweetheart.”
Then the lights went out.
Not just the hallway.
Everything.
The house plunged into darkness so complete that Frank saw his own reflection vanish from the window.
A second later, from far down the road, came the faintest sound of tires turning without headlights.
Mark whispered into the phone, “Five minutes.”
May you like
But Evan heard something too.
And in the dark hallway, Frank heard his son-in-law stop pretending to be human.
