Chapter 4 - Descent into the Basement
The basement stairs creaked with an agonizing, amplified groan under my sneakers as I descended into the damp, unfinished lower level of our home. The air smelled of old cardboard, concrete dust, and the faint, sweet scent of Leo’s stored baby formula. I flicked on the single overhead bulb, casting long, jittery shadows across the rows of storage shelves.
Upstairs, the heavy thud of footsteps echoed across the front porch, followed by the sharp, authoritative rap of knuckles against our front door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I froze, holding my breath. Martha would keep the kids quiet, but whoever was out there wasn't going to knock forever. I only had a matter of minutes before they tried to force entry.
I rushed toward my workbench in the far corner, where I kept my old toolboxes and spare hardware. Sarah never came down here; it was my domain, cluttered with old electronics, circuit boards, and half-finished woodworking projects. But three weeks ago, right around the time her behavior had started changing, she had asked me if she could store some of her old college photo albums in the wooden trunk beneath my workbench.
I dropped to my knees, shoving aside a pile of rusted clamps and spare piping, and grabbed the brass latch of the heavy cedar trunk. It lifted with a soft, muffled creak.
Inside sat three thick, leather-bound photo albums. I grabbed the top one and flipped it open, expecting to see pictures of our wedding or our honeymoon in Maine. Instead, the middle pages had been cleanly hollowed out with a utility knife, forming a rectangular compartment just large enough to hold a slim, metallic object.
Resting inside that compartment was a small flash drive with a strip of red electrical tape wrapped around its base, alongside a folded piece of heavy cardstock paper.
With shaking fingers, I unfolded the paper. Sarah’s handwriting stared back at me, rushed and jagged, as if she had written it in total darkness:
Mark, if you're reading this, I'm already gone. They found out I copied the ledger from the server. They think I'm alone in this, but I knew they'd come for the house eventually. The drive contains everything—the shell companies, the offshore accounts, the names of every executive involved in the embezzlement ring. Give it to the federal authorities in the downtown district, not the local precinct—local cops are compromised. I love you. Protect Lily and Leo.
My vision blurred, a hot tear finally breaking free and tracking down my cheek. All my anger toward her instantaneous disappearance dissolved into a suffocating mix of terror and grief. She hadn't run away on us; she had walked straight into the lion's den to keep these monsters away from our children.
May you like
Suddenly, the harsh sound of splintering wood echoed from upstairs.
The front door had just been kicked in.
