Chapter 2
A tiny splintering sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The door is locked, Grandpa. The big door. What do you mean the big door? The front door and the back door and the garage door. I knocked on mommy and daddy’s room, but nobody answered. I think they are gone, Grandpa. It is really dark, and I heard a noise in the basement, and I am scared.
My blood ran cold. It was a physical sensation like someone had injected ice water directly into my veins. I did not ask another question. I did not ask her to check again. I knew a man knows when something is wrong. It is an instinct I survived 30 years in the military by listening to that instinct.
And right now it was screaming at me. Listen to me, Mia. I was already out of bed pulling on my trousers with one hand holding the phone with the other. I want you to go into your closet, take your blanket, close the closet door, and sit there. Do not come out until you hear my voice. Do you understand? Yes, Grandpa, I am coming.
Stay on the line if you want, but do not make a sound. I did not bother with socks. I shoved my feet into my boots and grabbed my keys. Then I paused. I opened the top drawer of my nightstand and took out my sig sauer. I checked the chamber. Loaded. I did not know what was waiting for me at Austin’s house.
Maybe it was a break-in. Maybe they were hurt. But if someone was in that house frightening my granddaughter, I was not going to greet them with a handshake. I drove the 20-minute route in 12. My truck tore through the suburban silence, ignoring stop signs when the intersections were clear. The phone lay on the passenger seat, the line open but silent.
Every mile I drove, my mind raced. Austin was my son. He was soft. He had always been soft. He cared too much about what people thought about him. But Monica, my daughter-in-law, she was different. She was cold in a way that pretended to be warm. I pulled into their driveway and my headlights swept across the front of the house. It was dark, completely dark.
Not even the porch light was on. But the most chilling detail was the driveway itself. It was empty. Austin’s SUV was gone. Monica’s sedan was gone. The silence of the house was heavier than the darkness. I killed the engine and grabbed the spare key I kept in my glove box. I ran to the front door.