His eyes darted between the hatchway and Daniel Voss.

“I worked too hard for this,” Ethan muttered.

“I spent three years setting this up.”

“You spent three years stealing from my family,” I said.

My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

My heart was hammering against my ribs, loud and fast.

I kept my hand inside my coat pocket, my fingers still gripping the active phone.

On the other end of the line, the emergency dispatcher’s voice crackled faintly through the speaker.

“Step away from the stairs,” a new voice ordered from the hatchway.

Deputy Miller’s head and shoulders emerged into the room.

His service weapon was drawn, pointing straight at Ethan’s chest.

“Put the gun down, Ethan,” Miller said.

The deputy’s face was slick with sweat from the climb.

Behind him, two more officers climbed up, their flashlights cutting bright paths through the dusty air.

The beams caught the floating dust motes, turning the attic into a maze of white light.

Ethan took a step backward, his back hitting the rough cedar shingles of the sloped ceiling.