Chapter 4 - The Shadow on the PorchA loud, thunderous crash echoed from the main floor above my basement office.
BOOM!
The heavy steel security door at the top of the basement stairs rattled as someone slammed a heavy object against the frame.
I shut down the video monitor, transferring the raw video files instantly to an encrypted cloud drive linked directly to the State Police Homicide Division and the Army Criminal Investigation Division (CID).
I stood up from the console, my heart turned to solid, unyielding iron.
The grief that had threatened to tear me apart five minutes ago vanished completely, replaced by the lethal, absolute focus of a soldier who had just identified the enemy.
I walked to the travel bassinet, lifting my son into my left arm, securing him tightly against my chest inside a tactical baby sling.
I reached into my weapons locker, pulling out my secondary sidearm—a Sig Sauer P226—checking the magazine with a quiet, mechanical CLICK.
I walked up the basement stairs, pressing my thumb against the biometric scanner.
BEEP.
The steel door unlocked and swung open.
The main living room was in absolute chaos.
The front double doors had been kicked open from the outside. Standing in the foyer, alongside Margaret and Caleb, were three broad-shouldered men in dark rain jackets—local enforcers hired by Caleb from his illegal gambling network in town.
Caleb held a heavy crowbar in his hand, his arm bleeding where I had twisted it earlier, his face twisted in a manic, desperate grin.
"There he is!" Caleb screamed, pointing his crowbar at me as I stepped into the hallway carrying my son. "Grab him! Get the memory card from his jacket!"
The three hired enforcers stepped forward, pulling heavy iron pipes and knives from their coats.
Margaret stood near the open front door, her face pale, holding her leather handbag tight against her chest. "Just give us the card, Daniel! We can settle this! You can keep the baby! Just give us the card!"
I stood near the entrance of the hallway, holding my son close with my left arm, my right hand resting casually inside my jacket pocket on the grip of my sidearm.
"You told me she died of a heart condition, Margaret," I spoke, my voice carrying a quiet, terrifying clarity that filled the room. "You told me she was careless."
Caleb took two aggressive steps forward, raising his crowbar. "Shut up, Daniel! You're outnumbered! Give me the card or I'll break your other arm!"
"You're not fighting a husband today, Caleb," I whispered softly.
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I pulled my P226 from my jacket, bringing the sights up in a fraction of a second, locking the front sight post directly onto the center of Caleb’s chest.
"You're fighting an intelligence officer who has the state police on the line right now."
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