up!” a voice yelled as another ray of light swept through the windows in front—flashing over the shadowy furnishings in a way that made her feel like a hunted animal. Like someone’s prey. She remained frozen, cowering by a china hutch, and still a few feet from the hallway and the door to the basement. Praying for invisibility, she felt her heart lurch with each loud bang on the door.
“I know you’re in there!” a loud male voice boomed through the wooden door. Probably Krantz’s. “Come out, or I’m coming in!”
Seeing the light sweeping the other side of the house, Leah made her break through the darkness, quietly scrambling to the safety of the hallway, where she crouched against the wall and waited in fear while Krantz continued pounding and shouting. Certain he was about to kick down the front door, she tried to think—what could she do?
She reached up to try the doorknob to the basement, but it was locked. She suspected Jon and Ralph had gone down there and considered knocking on it, but was afraid it might get Krantz’s attention. And what if Jon opened it with a light on down there? As Krantz continued to pound and shout, she wondered if he really did have a search warrant—and if so, could he legally kick down the door? But then she decided that was just as bogus as him having an arrest warrant for her. But why had he made such a claim? What had been his real intent? And why was he so relentless in his search for them? Well, aside from the fact that they could both accuse him of attempted murder. That was probably more than enough to make him want to silence them.
Just when it felt as if her heart were about to hammer out of her chest, the basement door cracked open and she heard Jon whispering, “Come on. Hurry.”
“Wait,” she whispered back, watching as the flashlight swept through the front room again. Even though it didn’t reach into the hallway, she was too scared to move. Then, as it illuminated the other side, she slipped around the opened door, entered the basement and silently closed and locked the door behind her, then sat on the steps, trying to hold back tears of fear and desperation.
“You’re trembling,” Jon said in a low murmur as he put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m guessing it’s not from being cold.”
“Krantz is out there,” she reported in a hushed tone. “He’s beating on the door—right now. Can’t you hear it?”
“I thought I heard something, but I hoped it was you.”
“Listen,” she whispered frantically. “That’s him pounding—he’s threatening to kick the door down.”
Jon pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. “There’s nothing we can do about that right now.”
“But what if he does break in?” she asked in a shaky voice. “What if he kicks the door in and enters the house?”
“Then we’ll get him charged with breaking and entering as well as attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, reckless endangerment and several other substantial charges that should get him locked up for a while.” Jon’s voice didn’t sound nearly as brave as his words insinuated. Not that she could blame him. She was so scared she felt sick to her stomach. “We’ve got so much on him that, once he’s convicted, he’ll be put away for a long time, Leah.”
“Not if he kills us first—that’s what he wants to do. I know it.” She let out a little sob. “What is wrong with him? Why is he doing this? Why won’t he just leave us alone?”
“Because we know too much about him.”
“What do we really know?”
“Just that he’s hiding behind his badge while breaking the law. That he’s a bad cop. That’s enough to make him worried. And my suspicion is that we’ve only scratched the surface with him. This guy has a lot to hide. Enough to make it worth his while to get rid of both of us.”
She didn’t doubt that. Even so, it brought no comfort. No hope. As they sat there clinging to each other on the inky staircase, she knew that her only hope—their only hope—was God. She prayed for God’s help—and for the faith to believe He really could deliver them from this madness.
When the banging overhead finally ceased, Jon kept his arm around Leah, both of them just sitting there and listening to the silence. Finally he helped her to stand and gently guided her down the steep dark stairs.
“Careful,” he warned quietly.
“Do you think he’s really gone? That he gave up?”
“It sounds like it.”
“But why was he so insistent?” she continued. “Do you think he really knows we’re in here?”
“I honestly don’t see how.”
“Maybe we left footprints outside,” she suggested. “Our feet were wet and sandy.”
“But the back patio is already wet and sandy. Plus it’s mossy,” he said. “I can’t imagine any footprints would show up.”
Leah wanted to believe him, but the sound of Krantz yelling kept echoing through her head. At the foot of the stairs, Leah thought she could see a very faint light in the room. As they moved closer, it seemed to be flickering like a flame. Was Krantz going to burn them out? “What’s that?” she asked in alarm. “That light? Where’s it—”
“It’s okay,” Jon said soothingly. “Just a candle. Not visible outside. There are no windows down here.” He led her around a corner where she was surprised to see a small yellow candle bravely burning in a glass jar in the center of a wooden crate that appeared to be serving as a makeshift coffee table in front of a shabby-looking couch and a couple of wicker chairs.
“The light’s nice,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t even see it from the stairs.”
“Good.”
By the candle’s flickering flame, she could see by the trails of dust that things had been moved around. Probably to make it more comfortable—as if they might be down here awhile. But what if Krantz broke in—and started shooting? Perhaps they should barricade the door, too.
“Have a seat,” Jon said gently.
She sat down in a wicker rocker, hugging her arms around her middle and trying to shake off the terror still seeping through her. “I don’t understand why Krantz is so driven. He really sounded as if he plans to break in here—as if he wants to kill us.”
“Well, if he does, the alarm will go off.”
“The alarm?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah. My parents’ security system. But it might not help much...since it’s the police department in town that will be notified. And Krantz might end up fielding that call for them.”
“And he’d tell them it was a false alarm,” she surmised.
“Probably.” Jon reached for a metal baseball bat leaning against a cardboard box. He swung it up, smacking it into his open palm as if it were a weapon—and not just a youth’s toy. He pointed the bat to a small “arsenal” of other random pieces. A plumbing wrench, a long metal pole, several large
