Page 57 of Darkwater Lane

I don’t trust the police. I can’t. Not after that.

If these men evenarethe police. For all I know, they could be part of some fringe militia group.

My breathing is short and tight as I try to figure out my next move. There must be half a dozen men crowded into my house at this point, all of them in full combat gear and carrying assault rifles.

The man in front pauses by the first door in the hallway. Connor’s room. He bangs a fist on it. “Police! Drop any weapons and get down on the floor, hands out to your sides.”

He tries the knob, but it’s locked.Good boy, Connor, I think tomyself. He’s doing what I always told him to do: lock the door against any potential threats.

It doesn’t matter. The man nods to a second man behind him who appears with a heavy metal battering ram. He swings it at the door. Wood splinters. I hear my son scream.

That’s what breaks me.

“Stop it!” I yell, bursting from the room, taking the chance that these menarepolice. Anything to take their attention off my son.

The man on point pivots in my direction. I watch as his eyes clock my gun. It’s by my side, but that doesn’t matter. He swings his long gun around, raising it as he trains it on me. “Gun!” he yells at the top of his lungs. “Gun! Gun! Gun!” The other officers join in the chant, the sounds mixing with the blaring alarm, the entire house a chaos of overwhelming noise.

The tension in the air is too thick. Too charged. I can practically smell their fear-tinged aggression. The point man is a heartbeat away from pulling the trigger.

I drop my weapon and immediately splay my fingers wide to show I’m not holding anything else. I’m terrified to raise my hands in case he sees that as an act of aggression. Any movement will get me shot.

“Down!” he shouts. “Get down now!”

There’s too much white in his eyes. It belies his fear. A scared man is a dangerous man. I do as he says. But first, I kick the gun down the hallway and out of reach.

The minute my knees hit the floor, two more armed men pounce on me. They’re not gentle as they wrench my arms behind my back and pin them in place.

“Where’s the girl?” one of them shouts. His face is so close that his spittle sprays the side of my cheek.

More men swarm the house. Overhead, a helicopter roars, its spotlight cutting against the windows. “What’s going on?” I cry, trying to understand what’s happening. “Who are you?”

The man shakes me roughly. “The girl!”

Does he mean Lanny? I shake my head. No way. I’m not giving them anything, especially when it comes to my kids.

“Where’s the girl your neighbors heard screaming for help earlier, followed by the sound of gunshots.”

Two more men break down the door to Lanny’s room. They storm through it, tossing the blankets from her bed and kicking over a chair in the corner. When they throw open her closet doors, I hear a muffled scream.

I struggle against the man pinning me to the ground. “Leave my daughter alone!”

The men ignore me. One of them crouches in front of where Lanny cowers in the corner of the closet. His flashlight hits on her tearstained cheeks. “It’s okay, darlin’.”

Her eyes find me, still in the hallway. “Mom?”

I only see her mouth move; there’s too much noise to hear the actual word.

Everything inside me howls to tell her it’s okay, but I can’t. Because I don’t understand what the fuck is going on.

“What’s happening?” I cry. “We haven’t done anything wrong!”

There’s shouting from outside. Then, a gunshot. Followed by two more.

The bottom drops out of my world. I start fighting harder, spitting and cursing.

Someone calls, “Medic!”

My entire body starts to tremble. Someone’s hurt.

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