Chapter 5 - The Cat and Mouse Game
I scrambled to my feet, my heart hammering against my ribs. I shoved the floorboard back into place and slipped the black box into my messenger bag.
"Sarah," Caleb called out again, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor as he moved from the living room toward the kitchen. "Don't be stupid. We need to talk. The police have it all wrong. I can explain everything."
I didn't answer. I backed out of the office and slipped into the hallway bathroom—the same bathroom where I had caught him two days ago. I locked the door as quietly as possible, my breath shallow and fast in my throat.
"I know you're looking for my insurance policy," he said, his voice closer now. He was at the bottom of the stairs. "I know you went into the office. The police didn't find the ledger. If you have it, you need to give it to me. The people I work for... they aren't going to let this go, Sarah. If you turn that ledger in, they will come after you. They will come after Lily."
"You're lying!" I screamed through the door, unable to hold back the venom anymore. "You sold her to them! You sold her brain!"
The footsteps stopped outside the bathroom door.
"I was saving us!" Caleb shouted, dropping the calm facade. His fist pounded against the wood, making the frame rattle. "Do you have any idea how much debt we were in? I was protecting this family!"
"By poisoning a five-year-old in a bathtub?!" I yelled back, tears of pure fury streaming down my face. "You're a monster, Caleb. You're a weak, pathetic monster, and you're going to rot in prison."
"Give me the bag, Sarah." The doorknob rattled violently. "I'm not leaving without it."
"I called Detective Reynolds the second I heard your car," I lied, gripping the heavy brass lamp I had left on the counter two days ago. "They're two minutes away. If you break this door down, you're going to get caught red-handed violating your bail conditions."
Caleb paused. The silence on the other side of the door was suffocating. I could hear him breathing, calculating his options. He was a coward at his core, and cowards always prioritize self-preservation.
"This isn't over," he hissed through the wood. "You don't know who you're messing with."
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I heard his footsteps retreat quickly down the stairs, followed by the front door slamming shut and the screech of his tires peeling out of the driveway.
My knees finally gave out. I slid down the bathroom door, clutching the messenger bag to my chest. I had the evidence. I had the missing piece. And I was going to use it to burn his world to the ground.
