Chapter 9 - THE DEAD WIFE’S VOICE
Marcus’s hand trembled so violently he nearly dropped his phone. His breath caught in his chest, a jagged tear opening wide in his soul as he stared at his late wife’s handwriting.
Sarah had hidden this before she died. She had known what was coming.
"Daddy?" Lily called out faintly from the wooden crate, her eyes reflecting the phone's white light like a frightened fawn. "What is that?"
"It's... it's a message from Mommy," Marcus choked out, his voice thick with uncontainable emotion.
He didn't have time to process the grief. He quickly stuffed the USB drive into his pants pocket, picked up the iron crowbar, and swung it with all the strength left in his upper body into the storm door latch.
BOOM!
The rotting wood exploded into splinters. The heavy iron latch gave way, and the double wooden storm doors swung outward an inch, revealing a narrow gap of grey daylight filtering down through the wooden slats of the outdoor deck above.
The smell of wet earth and fresh rain rushed into the stale basement air.
"Lily, come here!" Marcus called out softly, dropping the crowbar and rushing back to the crate.
He lifted her up, holding her tightly against his shoulder as he squeezed through the narrow opening of the storm door, stepping out into the damp, dirt crawlspace beneath the high outdoor deck.
Rain fell through the floorboards above them, dripping onto his hair and face, but to Marcus, the cold water felt like liquid life. They were out of the main house.
Crawling on his knees through the wet leaves and dirt beneath the deck, Marcus dragged himself and his daughter toward the outer perimeter of the lattice fencing that enclosed the deck's underside.
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Through the wooden slats, he saw the flashing red and blue lights of three police cruisers tearing down the long gravel driveway, their sirens wailing violently into the quiet suburban afternoon.
They had arrived.
