The front lock clicked, but Derek did not enter.
Nora stood in the hallway with Lily pressed against her side, the black phone held to her ear and the emergency dispatcher listening in silence.
Gas hissed beneath the floorboards.
Through the frosted glass, Derek’s shape remained perfectly still.
Then the secret phone vibrated.
Derek was calling it.
Nora answered and said nothing.
“Owen?” Derek whispered.
“Why are you still there?”
The dispatcher heard him clearly.
Nora looked down at Lily.
Her daughter’s face was pale above the sweater covering her mouth, but she did not make a sound.
“Your daughter has your phone, Derek,” Nora said.
The silhouette behind the glass recoiled.
For three seconds, he was silent.
Then he tested the front handle again.
“Nora, open the door.”
“You locked it.”
His voice softened with terrifying speed.
“There’s been a misunderstanding.
Put the phone down and go upstairs with Lily.
I can fix this.”
“The house is filling with gas.”
“Then stop wasting time arguing with me.”
That was the moment Nora stopped hoping there was an explanation.
A loving husband would have broken the window.
He would have called the fire department.
He would have begged them to get away from the house.
Derek was asking them to go upstairs, where the gas would collect beneath the closed windows and where an explosion would leave them no path out.
Headlights swept across the hallway.
A white contractor’s van pulled into the driveway.
A broad-shouldered man in work clothes stepped out carrying a metal case.
Nora recognized him from the kitchen renovation.
Owen Mercer had installed the new stove, moved the gas line, and laughed when Nora asked why the shutoff valve had been placed behind pantry shelves.
He headed toward the basement entrance.
Derek turned sharply.
“You were told not to come back,” he hissed into the phone.
Owen looked at him.
Even through the glass, Nora could see the confusion on his face.
The dispatcher whispered, “Officers are approaching from the rear.
Keep them talking.”
Lily tugged Nora’s sleeve and pointed toward the ceiling camera.
Its red recording light had turned on.
Someone was watching the hallway feed.
Nora opened the black phone’s settings and saw a security application running in the background.
Four live camera windows showed the kitchen, hallway, basement, and front porch.
A fifth window displayed a remote viewer identified only by the initials D.R.
Derek had not returned because he was worried about them.
He had come back to watch.
Nora tapped the basement feed.
Owen opened the exterior door and descended the concrete steps.
He set down his metal case beside the furnace and reached toward a small electronic box wired into the gas line.
A countdown glowed on the device.
Five minutes and twelve seconds.
“There’s a timer in the basement,” Nora told the dispatcher.
