Her story is ripped from the headlines.
“I’m Sheriff Cavanaugh. Joe. I was on my way home and noticed the lights down here. I’m not suggesting you have to leave, but the storm is picking up out there.”
“There’s a storm? I didn’t realize…I didn’t even know how late it was.” She shook her head. “I should be going.”
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Laurel. Spencer is a safe place, but if you’d like me to walk you to your car, I’d be—”
An ear-splitting crack and a bright flash of light cut him off. A loud hum sounded, followed by the creak of hinges and a solid snick as the door closed.
“Well, hell,” the sheriff said into the pitch black. “We’re locked in.”