Chapter 10 - The Trap Spun
Rain began to fall again over Oakridge as evening approached—a gentle, rhythmic drizzle that mirrored the night Mark’s world had shattered two weeks ago.
Mark drove his truck up the winding driveway of the Crestview estate. Beside him in the passenger seat was Toby, clutching a stuffed brown bear. The house stood silent and dark, its broken patio slider now covered by a sheet of heavy plywood installed by contractors.
Mark had returned only to pack Toby’s favorite toys, family photo albums, and Clara’s remaining personal belongings before closing the house forever. He had arranged for two private security guards to park outside the front gates, giving him peace of mind.
"Stay near me, okay, buddy?" Mark said gently as he unlocked the front door and pushed it open.
"Okay, Daddy," Toby replied, holding Mark’s hand tightly.
Inside, the house was chilly. Mark turned on the hallway lights and walked into the living room, setting a large packing box on the coffee table. He walked up to the master bedroom to gather clothes, leaving Toby playing safely on the living room rug with his toy trucks.
Unbeknownst to Mark, outside at the perimeter fence, Julian Thorne stood in the shadows of the rain-drenched pine trees. He pulled out a small black jammer device, pressing a button that jammed the cell signals and local radio frequencies within a two-hundred-yard radius.
Down at the gate, the two private security guards suddenly noticed their hand radios buzzing with static. Before they could step out of their patrol vehicle to investigate, a heavy shadow moved past their windows, and a silent dart discharged from a pneumatic gun struck the driver in the neck. Seconds later, the second guard collapsed across the console.
Julian walked past the unconscious guards, slipping through the side gate. He used the digital keypad bypass code Vanessa had given him months ago, unlocking the side basement entrance silently.
Inside the house, Mark was in his study, packing a stack of photo albums into a box. As he lifted a framed photograph of Clara holding baby Toby, he heard a faint click from the hallway downstairs.
Mark froze.
It sounded like the basement door latch.
"Toby?" Mark called out softly, stepping into the upstairs hallway. "Are you downstairs?"
"I'm right here, Daddy," Toby’s voice called back from the living room.
Mark’s stomach dropped. He reached into his belt holster, pulling out a compact handgun he had begun carrying since the trial began.
"Toby, come up here to me right now," Mark whispered loudly over the railing.
Before Toby could answer, the lights in the house went out, plunging the mansion into pitch blackness.
"Daddy!" Toby cried out in terror from the dark living room below.
"Toby! Don't move! I'm coming!" Mark shouted, rushing down the stairs in the dark.
As Mark reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs, a heavy iron bar swung out of the darkness, striking Mark full across his shoulder. The blow sent the handgun flying from his grip, skidding across the hardwood floor into the shadows.
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Mark crashed against the wall, pain shooting through his arm. He spun around, catching a glimpse of a tall figure in a dark raincoat holding a heavy metal crowbar.
"You should have left it alone, Mark," Julian Thorne’s voice rasped in the dark.
