It was almost two in the morning when the quiet inside the guest room began to feel unnatural. The air outside the window had gone still. The air conditioner released a slow hum that seemed to echo against the walls. My five year old son, Alden, slept beside me with one small hand curled against my shirt. We were staying at my cousin Briella’s house on the western edge of Lake Hensley because she had asked for help during the first chaotic week after bringing her newborn home. Her husband was away for military training, and although I had not planned to stay more than a day or two, she insisted that she needed the extra support. My husband, Flynn, remained home because he was covering inventory checks during a night shift at the distribution warehouse where he worked.
I tried closing my eyes. Fatigue pressed heavily behind them. Just as I began drifting toward sleep, my phone vibrated sharply on the nightstand. The screen glowed in the dark and my stomach clenched when I saw Flynn’s name. He almost never called during work hours unless something serious demanded it.
I answered in a whisper. “Flynn. Is everything alright”
His voice came through tense and breathless. “Listen to me carefully. You need to leave that house right now. Do not make a noise.”
My entire body stiffened. “Why. What is going on. You are scaring me.”
“I cannot explain now. Just take Alden and get outside quietly. Do not turn on a light. Do not wake anyone.”
“Flynn. Tell me what happened.”
His voice grew sharper with urgency. “I am begging you. Move now.”
Fear crawled down my spine like cold water. I pulled the blanket aside and lifted Alden as gently as possible. His eyelids fluttered but he did not fully wake.
“It is alright sweetheart.” I murmured. “Stay sleepy.”
I crossed the room and reached for the doorknob. When I twisted it, nothing happened. I tried again with more force. The knob would not turn. Confusion flashed through me. I bent forward until my eyes adjusted to the dark. That was when I saw it. The small brass lock on the outer side of the door had been twisted into place. I had noticed earlier that the latch looked like an older part that had once been used but Briella had mentioned that the guest room lock no longer functioned. Yet it was now fully engaged.
My pulse thudded violently. “Flynn.” I whispered. “The door is locked from the outside.”