Then, near midnight, he heard it—floorboards creaking downstairs. Slow, deliberate. His blood ran cold. He dialed the officer’s number, voice tight as he whispered, “Officer? I think… there’s someone in my house.”
The reply came steady, trained for fear like this. “Alright, Daniel, listen to me carefully. I need you to lock your bedroom door, keep your family inside, and stay put. Don’t try to be a hero. I’m already on my way.” Daniel glanced back at Claire clutching the boys, their wide eyes locked on him. His throat felt tight. “He’s downstairs. I can hear him moving. What if he comes up?”