Chapter 4 - Stepping Across the Threshold
“I need a state trooper unit dispatched to County Road 42 immediately,” I instructed, my eyes never leaving the two figures silhouetted against the kitchen window. “Jurisdiction override. I want Sheriff Miller locked out of this entirely until my state investigators secure the premises.”
“Consider it done,” Mark replied crisply. “ETA for our closest unit out of the highway patrol station is fifteen minutes. Tori... do not go in there alone.”
“I’m already at the porch,” I said softly.
“Tori—”
I ended the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket.
Fifteen minutes was a lifetime. But waiting outside while Dennis and Serena sat in my home, laughing over the wreckage of my daughter’s life, was something my soul refused to tolerate.
I walked up the wooden steps of the back porch, making no effort to quiet my boots. The old pine floorboards creaked under my weight. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around the brass doorknob.
It was unlocked. Of course it was unlocked. In our small Nebraska town, nobody locked their doors—least of all a man who believed he was the king of his own little domain.
I pushed the door open.
The warm smell of bourbon, garlic, and expensive perfume hit me instantly. Dennis and Serena were talking in low tones, but as the door clicked shut behind me, their voices cut off abruptly.
Dennis turned his head toward the kitchen entrance, his easy, arrogant smile firmly in place. He expected the grocery delivery. He expected a neighbor dropping by to borrow a tool.
He did not expect me.
The color drained from Dennis’s face so fast it looked like someone had pulled a plug in his veins. The glass in his hand tilted, a splash of amber whiskey spilling across the dark oak tabletop.
Serena froze, her hand still resting on the back of Dennis’s chair, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror as she looked at my face.
I didn't yell. I didn't slam the door. I simply walked across the linoleum floor, stopping three feet away from the kitchen table, and rested my hands flat on its polished surface.
May you like
“Tori,” Dennis stammered, scrambling to stand up, his chair legs screeching against the floor. “Tori, what... what are you doing back from the hospital? We thought you were staying with Meadow overnight.”
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