Page 4 of Unexpected Danger
A feeling of loss and homesickness enveloped her. If only she could go back in time.
As she always did, Londyn checked the front door before settling into bed. Since receiving the texts and seeing the person across the street last night, she found herself checking the locks several times.
She turned out all of the lights except for the one in the hall, and crept to the front door. The apartment’s front yard and adjoining street were empty. Calm, save for the gentle rustling of the oak tree in the front yard. The streetlight flickered, its yellow hue casting an eerie glow.
Dread twisted in her gut. Were last night's events a one-time occurrence, or…
Londyn reminded herself that no one and nothing was out there. That she was safe inside her apartment. Safe behind a locked door.
She inched closer, double-checking that the door was fully locked. Then she checked again.
Londyn pressed on the door, reassuring herself it was completely closed as well, even though such affirmation wasn’t necessary. The door wouldn’t lock if it wasn’t closed.
A car traveled down the street, its lights illuminating the road ahead, and she jumped. When it continued on its route, she pressed a hand to her chest, praying God would calm her erratic pulse.
One final time, Londyn checked the door, then the window, leaning forward and pressing her nose against the glass to peer outside. All was quiet.
She turned around and retreated, satisfied that she’d be safe from whoever lurked outside.
Until she heard it.
The clicking of a door handle. The turning of the doorknob. Was it her imagination? Something else? Or…
She whipped her head around to look out the front door’s peephole.
Someone stood there wearing a dark-colored hoodie and a face mask, staring at the door. She screamed, backed up, and tripped over the leg of a small table. Londyn tumbled backward and hit the carpeted floor hard. It jarred her, wrenched her neck, and sent a jolt of pain through her elbow. She grasped the edge of the couch to stabilize herself.
The clicking again caused her heart to stall in her throat.
He was trying to get in.
Whoever it was pounded on the door loudly, as if indicating it was an emergency to get inside.
Begging her limbs to cooperate, she crawled away from the living room and once she reached the hall, stood, and ran on shaky legs to her bedroom. She shut the door, locked it, and shoved the side table against it before snagging her cell phone from the dresser and calling 911.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Someone is trying to get into my apartment.” Her voice sounded breathless and barely audible.
“Someone is trying to get into your apartment?”
“Yes.” She put the phone on speaker, tossed it on the bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and retrieved her gun. She may need it.
“What is your address?”
Londyn rattled off the address.
“Police are en route. Where are you at?”
“I’m in my bedroom.”
“Is that in the back of the apartment?”
“Yes, to the west side of it.”
The operator told her to stay away from the window and to hide in the closet if she could. She did as the operator said, wedging herself among her clothes and shoes.
The pounding on the front door continued.
