“Mommy,” Liam whispered, “someone’s outside.”
Another crash sounded downstairs.
Then a voice.
Daniel’s voice.
“Where is she?”
My blood went cold.
I locked the boys’ door and dragged a dresser in front of it. My hands were steady. That frightened me more than trembling would have.
“Listen to me,” I whispered. “Bathroom. Now.”
The guest bathroom connected to a storage closet with a sloped ceiling. I had noticed it earlier, a habit from years of scanning every room for exits and hiding places.
The boys obeyed without question.
That was another thing Daniel had left us.
Children who knew when fear was real.
I tucked them into the storage closet behind folded blankets.
“No sounds,” I whispered. “No matter what.”
Noah grabbed my wrist.
“Are you coming?”
“In a minute.”
His eyes widened.
I kissed his forehead. “I promise.”
I closed the closet door.
Downstairs, voices rose.
Marianne.
