Chapter 3 - What Lily Saw
Claire dragged Lily into the master bedroom, locking the heavy oak door behind them and sliding the brass security latch into place. She backed into the walk-in closet, shoving Lily behind a wall of hanging winter coats before sliding behind them herself.
The dark enveloped them. The only light came from the blue glow of Claire’s phone screen.
“Lily,” Claire whispered, her voice trembling as she held her daughter’s face in her hands. “Look at me. How did you know? How did you know before he even opened the door?”
Lily swallowed hard, her eyes reflecting the phone's faint light. “His hand, Mom.”
“His hand?”
“Dad called us from the taxi before he boarded his flight yesterday,” Lily whispered, her small voice steady despite the terror radiating from her skin. “He cut his right thumb on his pocket knife while fixing my bicycle chain on Tuesday. He had a big white bandage on it. Remember?”
Claire’s mind raced backward through the blurred memories of the week. Tuesday afternoon. Ethan swearing softly in the garage, wrapping a strip of white medical tape around his bloody right thumb before kissing Lily on the forehead.
“When that man knocked on the door,” Lily continued, “he pressed his palm against the glass panel. His right hand. There was no bandage, Mom. And there was no scar.”
A violent shiver ran down Claire’s spine. A detail so small, so utterly minute, that an eight-year-old child had caught it while her own adult brain had been ready to walk right into a trap.
Below them, the sound of boots echoed on the hardwood floor of the living room. Drawers were being pulled open. Cabinets were being tossed. The intruder wasn't just standing there waiting; he was searching for something.
Claire unlocked her phone screen again and navigated to her contacts. She tapped Ethan’s speed dial, pressing the speaker button while keeping the volume turned to the lowest possible setting.
Ring.
Ring.
From somewhere directly downstairs—in the kitchen—a cell phone began to ring. A soft, acoustic guitar ringtone. Ethan’s ringtone.
The footsteps down hall stopped instantly.
May you like
Then, a voice answered the call. Not through the phone’s speaker, but from the floor right below their bedroom.
“You shouldn’t have called, Claire,” the voice whispered through the receiver, sounding simultaneously beside her ear and beneath her feet. “It makes it so much easier to find you.”
