Chapter 5 - THE KNOCK
My blood turned to ice.
“They’re early,” Nathan whispered, his eyes wide with panic. He grabbed my arm. “Claire, you have to hide. Both of you.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I said, the betrayal of the last hour clashing with the sudden terrifying reality.
“You have to,” Judith hissed, grabbing a heavy cast-iron pan from the stove. The frail old woman suddenly looked like a soldier preparing for a siege. “Go get Owen! Take him to the storm cellar under the back porch.”
The thudding at the front door grew louder. It wasn’t a knock. It was someone trying to kick the heavy oak door open.
I didn’t hesitate anymore. I turned and ran up the stairs as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Owen!” I screamed, throwing open the door to the guest room.
The bed was empty.
Panic seized my throat. “Owen?!”
I checked the closet. Under the bed. The bathroom.
He wasn’t there.
On his pillow, sitting perfectly square, was a child’s drawing. It was folded in half.
I snatched it up. It was a drawing Owen had made in art class weeks ago—a picture of a large oak tree with a hollow trunk in our backyard back home.
But he had drawn something new over it in thick red crayon.
An arrow pointing to the closet door.
I opened the closet again and pushed past the hanging coats. At the back of the closet was a small access panel to the attic crawlspace. It was ajar.
“Owen?” I whispered into the dark opening.
“Mom.”
His small voice came from the darkness. He crawled forward, his face covered in dust, his eyes wide with fear.
“I heard them talking earlier,” Owen whispered, grabbing my hand. “Grandma and Dad. They lied to you.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“Dad isn’t trying to save us from bad men,” Owen said, his voice trembling. He pulled a small, shiny object from his pocket.
It was the silver bracelet from the photograph.
“I found this in Dad’s bag,” Owen said. “He put it on Grandpa’s wrist in Photoshop. I saw the original picture on his laptop. He faked it, Mom.”
A loud crash echoed from downstairs. The front door had given way.
But my mind was paralyzed by the revelation. Nathan hadn’t faked the photo to protect us. He faked it to confuse me.
Answer One, Open Two.
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“We have to get out of the house,” I whispered, pulling Owen from the closet. “Now.”
