Daddy, what the hell? her mind swore reflexively and uncharacteristically. In addition to the black Benelli M4 12-gauge shotgun loaded with Remington 00 buckshot, there were two black pistols she’d never seen before as well as a new pair of noise-canceling earbuds designed specifically for shooting. She knew the pistols were semiautomatics and not revolvers, but that was about the extent of her handheld firearms knowledge. He’d always trained her on the Benelli. She didn’t know if the pistols were loaded, but she also didn’t want to leave the two handguns in the safe. She didn’t envision herself as Lara Croft, but she’d watched enough movies and Netflix to know that sometimes more than one gun mattered.

She took the two menacing weapons and placed them on her father’s desk. She’d leave them there, just in case. She grabbed the Benelli and a nylon pouch that contained twelve more 00 shells. With the shells in the pouch, the five in the tubular magazine, and one in the chamber, she figured she had enough stopping power. She knew it was loaded, but just to be safe—as her father had taught her each and every time—she picked up the shotgun and placed her iPhone on the edge of the desk with the flashlight aimed down. She angled the Benelli away from her with the charging handle facing up, slid the lever backward, and looked inside the chamber. Bingo. The back of the shell was visible.

She released the charging handle forward and pressed the triangular safety so that the weapon was ready to fire. Step one, complete. She breathed a sigh of relief, turned off her iPhone, and slid it into the front pocket of her hoodie. She was a junior in high school that liked young adult fantasy fiction but was now armed with a shotgun. Great. What now?

As if fate had answered her question directly, Sam’s heart skipped a beat when she looked out the huge office windows and saw two men moving up the street toward her house. She stood still, frozen in place at the sight of them. Did they see me?

The two men dressed as officers left the pavement of the street and started moving through the Chamberses’ grass in a line directly toward her house.

Oh no. Have to move. But where? Sam grabbed the pouch of shells and slid the clips over the top of her yoga pants, praying they’d stay in place. She held the power button on the right earbud, waited for the light, and inserted both once they were on. The earbuds would allow her to hear sounds inside the house while activating to protect her hearing if she had to pull the trigger. Beats the heck out of the clunky earmuffs.

With the Benelli held confidently in front of her, she left her father’s office and turned right to move deeper into the house. Time to hide.

* * *