AfterNet 01 - Good Cop Dead Cop

see in the light of the flashlight.
    She walked to the stairs and went up to the door at the top. She turned the handle. Naturally, it was locked. “Argh!” she screamed. “I can’t get a break, can I?”
    Munroe saw his partner walk down the stairs through the cellar door. She is going to be hell to live with after this, he thought. And how could I have been so stupid as to get myself trapped …
    A movement in the yard interrupted his litany. He saw the door on the detached garage open and a young woman stepped through it. She walked to the back porch and went directly to the cellar door and slammed it shut. Then she locked it, walked back to the yard and into the garage. She never looked at the house. A few seconds later, he saw a car pull out from the garage and drive down the alley behind the house.
    He looked back at the cellar door on the porch. He thought he saw it move a few times. He realized it must be his partner trying to get out. Then he went over to the door in the kitchen that he also thought led to the cellar. I hope I’m right. A few seconds later he saw the door handle move and he felt the AfterNet field return just in time for her scream of frustration.
    “Linda!”
    “Alex!”
    “I’m stuck down here,” she said.
    “And I’m stuck up here. I saw her do it. I saw her close the door.”
    “Who?”
    “Duggan. It was her. And before you say, ‘Are you sure?’ Yes, I’m sure. There are pictures of her all over the place. And she matches the description we have.”
    “OK, already. How screwed am I with this door? What can you see?”
    He got as close to the door as he could. “There’s a deadbolt but I don’t think it’s thrown. I think it’s just the latch.”
    She jiggled the handle again. “I think you’re right,” she said.
    “Try ’loiding the lock?”
    “Try what?”
    “Use a credit card or something,” he said. “See if you can push the latch back enough to open the door.”
    “OK.” He waited and a few seconds later he saw a sliver of plastic appear through the crack of the door against the frame.
    “A little higher,” he said. The plastic disappeared and she said “damn!”
    “What happened?”
    “Dropped it. It fell off the stairs. I’ve got to find it.”
    She returned a minute later and resumed her efforts. After five minutes, she gave up.
    “I’m never going to get it,” she said.
    “Don’t give up. ’loiding a lock is easy,” he lied, “you just need to slide the card …”
    “Just shut up, Alex. Let me think.” He shut up.
    “The door opens inward, right.”
    “Yes,” he said.
    “Maybe I can just force my way in. If I get a running start …”
    “I don’t know. It looks pretty solid.”
    “I don’t fucking care, Alex.”
    “OK, bust it down.” She didn’t reply and the field disappeared. A few seconds later, the door moved, slightly, the field reappeared and then it was gone. A few more seconds later, the sequence repeated, although this time the door seemed to move a little more visibly. He stepped back, realizing that if by some miracle the door opened, he’d be squished flat against the wall like a cartoon character. Nothing happened for about half a minute when the door shook again. Behind him, a dirty glass perched on the edge of the sink fell to the floor and broke. The door, however, held.
    He waited by the door for several minutes. Finally the field reappeared. “I can’t do it. The stairs are too steep. I fell back down the stairs that time.”
    “You hurt?”
    “Only my pride for the second time. Well, and my butt.”
    He said nothing, afraid to irritate her further. “I guess I can try the lock thing again,” she said.
    “Do you have anything more flexible than a credit card?” he asked.
    “Let me look. No, that won’t work. Hey, I have my Miranda card. Forgot I even had this. That’s a little more flexible.”
    Thirty minutes later, after a great deal of coaching from him, and a lot of cursing from her, the door opened and she staggered into the kitchen. She looks mad, he thought. Her face and clothing were smudged with dirt and she’d been sweating from the heat of the furnace and the frustration of trying to open the door. Strands of hair had been pulled from her ponytail and were flopping around her face.
    “Now that I’m out of there, I can tell you what a complete and utter moron you are.”
    “Hey, I’m not the one who locked you in the cellar. And don’t forget she trapped me,