Chapter 2 - The Padlock and the Phantom UncleMy blood ran instantly cold. A padlock? Not a standard car door lock malfunction—someone had deliberately secured the exterior of a minivan with a padlock?
"Show me," I said, standing up and pulling Leo gently to his feet. He swayed, and I steadied him, keeping one hand on his shoulder as we walked back toward the dark blue minivan.
The sight up close was even more sickening. The passenger-side sliding door had a heavy-duty brass padlock slotted neatly through the exterior latch mechanism, looping through a makeshift steel bracket bolted directly into the frame. Someone hadn't just forgotten these children; they had caged them.
"Uncle Victor did this?" I asked, my fists clenching so hard my nails dug into my palms.
Leo nodded miserably, staring at the ground. "He said... he said we were too much trouble. He said Mom and Dad's insurance money was gone, and he couldn't afford to feed us anymore. He said someone would find us if we screamed loud enough."
Insurance money? The puzzle pieces began to twist together in a horrifying picture. This wasn't a tragic accident of parental negligence. This was premeditated abandonment—or worse, attempted murder disguised as a tragic mishap.
"Leo, look at me," I said, crouching down so I was eye-level with the brave boy. "You saved your sister's life today. Do you understand that? If you hadn't used your own body to block the sun, she wouldn't have survived another twenty minutes."
Leo wiped his nose with the back of his trembling hand. "I had to. She's all I have left."
"We are going to find this Uncle Victor," I promised, my voice laced with a fury I hadn't felt in years. "And the police are going to ask him a lot of questions."
I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. As I waited for the dispatcher to pick up, I noticed something glinting on the floorboard of the minivan near the driver's seat. It was a receipt, fluttering in the artificial draft created by the broken window. I reached inside, careful not to cut myself on the remaining glass, and snatched it up.
It was from a gas station just three miles down the highway, timestamped exactly forty-five minutes ago. Purchased items: one pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a one-way bus ticket to a neighboring state under the name Victor Vance.
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"911, what is your emergency?" a calm voice answered in my ear.
"I need police and an ambulance at the Sunnyside Plaza parking lot immediately," I said, my eyes locked on the gas station receipt in my hand. "I’ve just pulled two children out of a locked, boiling vehicle. One of them is a four-month-old infant. And I have the name and location of the monster who locked them inside."
