Chapter 6 - The BreachThe brass lock gave a sharp, metallic pop.
I didn't think; survival instincts took over instantly. I shoved the heavy wooden laundry hamper with both feet, jamming it under the sinking doorknob just as Mark threw his shoulder against the door.
The wood cracked near the top hinge. Paint flaked off the frame, showering down onto my knees.
"Clara, let go!" Mark roared, his arm forcing its way through the three-inch gap. His hand clawed wildly at the air, trying to grab my hair or the collar of my shirt.
Behind him, Evelyn’s voice was venomous. "Push harder, Mark! Before she ruins everything!"
I scrambled backward on my back, dragging my body against the porcelain bathtub, wrapping both arms tight around Toby. My baby was screaming hysterically, his small body rigid against my chest.
"I'm on the line with 911!" I screamed at the crack in the door, holding the glowing phone high. "They recorded everything! They know!"
Mark’s hand froze for a split second, then his face appeared in the gap—eyes bloodshot, teeth bared. "Give me the baby, you crazy bitch!"
He threw his entire weight against the wood again. The top hinge tore free from the wall with a sickening screech of splintering pine. The door sagged sideways, held only by the bottom latch and the wedged hamper. Mark jammed his boots into the opening, preparing to kick the hamper clear.
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I was trapped. There was nowhere left to run.
Then, from the driveway outside, a deafening siren cut through the rainy afternoon air, followed by the crunch of gravel and the screech of heavy tires.
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