Chapter 2 - The House of Whispers"Step away from the threshold! Hands where we can see them!"
Officer Miller's voice boomed from inside the dark foyer of the house, followed by the metallic click of a firearm being unholstered. I stood on the porch steps, Emily safely tucked against my chest, her face pressed firmly into my neck so she couldn't see the flashing lights or hear the shouting.
"Dad, let's go. Please, let's go," she sobbed softly, her small nails digging into my shoulders. "He's going to be mad that you broke the lock. He said nobody ever comes for me."
"They came, baby. Look at me. Nobody is ever touching you again," I whispered fiercely, kissing the top of her head while my eyes remained glued to the open doorway.
Inside, heavy footsteps thudded down the hallway. Seconds later, Officer Miller emerged, shoving a man forward.
It wasn't Jason.
It was Sarah.
Her hair was disheveled, her mascara streaked down her cheeks in dark, jagged lines, and her designer blouse was torn at the shoulder. She looked like a woman who had unraveled completely, her eyes wide, wild, and darting frantically between me and the police cruiser.
"Michael! Thank God!" Sarah shrieked, stumbling toward the porch. "You have to help me! He went crazy! Jason lost his mind, he locked us both in the bedroom, he threatened to kill us!"
The performance was Oscar-worthy. If I hadn't spent the last three days staring at a blank phone screen, if I hadn't climbed that rotting fence and pulled my daughter out of a rusted animal cage, I might have believed the terror in her voice.
"Shut your mouth, Sarah," I growled, stepping down off the porch so she couldn't touch Emily. "Where is he?"
"Upstairs! He's in the attic!" Sarah cried, falling to her knees on the grass, clutching at Officer Miller's uniform pants. "You have to arrest him! He's a monster! He did all of this!"
Miller looked down at her with a mixture of disgust and professional skepticism, then looked at me. "Michael, take your daughter to the second patrol unit. Paramédics are on the way. We're clearing the house now."
As I carried Emily toward the ambulance, I glanced back. Sarah was still sobbing hysterically on the lawn, but as the red and blue lights swept across her face, I caught a split-second shift in her expression. The panic vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating glance directed straight at me.
She wasn't running away from Jason.
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She was covering for him. And the worst part was—the house was dead silent. There was no sound of a struggle upstairs. No shouting. No footsteps.
Because Jason wasn't hiding in the attic. He was already gone.
