“Mr. Grady said something about a leak. He said it would spread faster if all the windows stayed closed.” Eli paused. “Daniel said that was fine. He said that by the time it got dark, there would be no one left in the house.”
The blood pulled away from my face so completely that the kitchen briefly went gray at the edges.
And then, in the silence that followed his words, I heard it. A sound from beneath us — faint, almost imperceptible, the kind of sound you might easily explain away as the house settling. A soft, metallic click from somewhere under the floor.
“He locked the gate when he drove out,” Eli continued, his voice dropping further. “And before he left, he switched off the phone signal booster. The one in the utility room.”
I stood completely still and felt the full weight of where I was settle down around me.
Chapter Four: When Quiet Danger Finally Shows Its Shape
There is a particular quality to the moment when real danger becomes undeniable. It does not feel the way fear usually feels — sharp and sudden and moving. It feels instead like stillness. A terrible, comprehensive stillness in which everything you thought you understood about your situation rearranges itself into a shape you should have seen far sooner.
I stood in that kitchen and felt exactly that kind of stillness.
Eli reached out and took my hand. “Not the front door,” he said. “The basement door is still open. He didn’t lock it from outside.”
We moved.
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