Chapter 4 - Someone Was Still InsideLuke stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.
Maribel grabbed Jonah.
Elodie froze.
“Mom?”
“Stay with me.”
Luke whispered,
“Call 911.”
Maribel did.
The unknown device remained connected.
Strong signal.
Nearby.
Not outside.
Inside.
The house suddenly felt enormous.
Too many rooms.
Too many closets.
Too many doors.
Luke took a fireplace poker.
Maribel glared.
“Don't play hero.”
“I am not standing here holding a fruit bowl.”
Fair.
They moved toward the pantry first.
Cereal boxes.
Nothing.
Maribel checked behind them.
No phone.
Then—
a floorboard creaked upstairs.
Elodie grabbed her mother.
Luke moved toward the staircase.
Maribel whispered,
“Police are three minutes out.”
Another sound.
A door.
Then footsteps.
Running.
Luke reached the hall as a figure came down the rear staircase.
Man.
Dark hoodie.
Baseball cap.
He saw Luke and changed direction.
“STOP!”
Luke chased.
The man hit the back door.
Out.
Across the yard.
Luke followed only to the porch.
Maribel screamed,
“DON'T!”
He stopped.
Good.
Police arrived as the intruder disappeared between neighboring properties.
Officers searched.
No capture.
But the house told a story.
Elodie's room had been searched again.
Mattress lifted.
Desk drawers open.
Closet emptied.
The music box remained in Maribel's bedroom because she'd moved it.
Whoever entered hadn't found what they wanted.
In Constance's guest room, police discovered a prepaid phone hidden behind a loose panel inside the closet.
Not behind cereal.
Elodie had seen Constance move it before.
The device wasn't the one currently connected.
But its messages were enough.
Most were deleted.
Several remained.
One contact:
D.
No full name.
The latest conversation:
D: She still doesn't know.
Constance: Keep it that way.
D: The girl moved something.
Constance: Then scare her if you have to.
Maribel stared.
Luke's face hardened.
The officer continued scrolling.
D: I won't touch the kids.
Constance: You're already involved.
Then:
D: Raymond should have destroyed it.
Maribel stopped breathing.
Her father.
The messages didn't prove D was Damian.
But she knew.
The timing.
The search.
The blue envelope.
The door code.
Still, the officer remained careful.
“We'll subpoena carrier records.”
Maribel nodded.
Then one message appeared from three months earlier.
The night Luke left.
Constance: He is in the garage. Camera off.
D: Do it now.
Maribel looked at Luke.
His face went pale.
“What happened that night?” the officer asked.
Maribel couldn't answer.
Luke did.
“Her mother accused me of being drunk while watching the baby.”
The officer looked at him.
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Had you been drinking?”
“One beer at dinner.”
Maribel closed her eyes.
One beer.
Constance told her four.
Said she smelled whiskey.
Said Jonah had cried for twenty minutes.
Luke continued.
“I went to the garage because a shelf bracket broke. Constance followed me and started accusing me of being irresponsible.”
“What happened?”
“I yelled.”
“Did you threaten her?”
“No.”
“She recorded part of it?”
“Camera captured me coming back inside angry.”
Maribel whispered,
“The camera was off before that.”
Luke looked at her.
“Yes.”
The live system archive showed only the final minute.
Luke entering.
Slamming a cabinet.
Constance standing quietly.
No context.
Maribel had assumed that was all.
But Constance's secret message suggested someone deliberately disabled the camera before the argument.
Maybe to hide what happened beforehand.
“D did it,” Elodie said.
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
She hugged her knees.
“The man.”
“What man?”
“The one tonight.”
Maribel crouched.
“You saw his face?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“He smelled like Uncle Damian.”
The officer's eyebrows lifted.
Maribel almost said perfume, then remembered.
Damian wore the same expensive cedar cologne every day.
Still not proof.
Then Luke walked toward the back door.
“There's blood.”
A tiny smear on the doorframe.
The intruder had caught his hand on a broken metal latch while escaping.
Police collected it.
Damian's DNA wouldn't be in a criminal database.
But if they got a lawful comparison later, it could matter.
Maribel was exhausted.
She wanted her children out.
They went to Luke's sister's house for the night.
No one argued.
At 2:00 a.m., Jonah finally slept.
Elodie curled beside Maribel.
Luke sat on the floor against the bed.
It felt almost like before.
Almost.
Then Maribel's phone rang.
The hospital pediatrician.
“Ms. Dawson, we received Jonah's bloodwork.”
Maribel sat up.
“What?”
“There was something unexpected.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What?”
“A sedating antihistamine.”
Maribel went cold.
“He isn't taking antihistamines.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Any cold medication?”
“No.”
The doctor paused.
“The level isn't dangerous now. But based on what you've told us about his unusual sleepiness this week, I think you need to consider the possibility of repeated exposure.”
Maribel couldn't speak.
Luke stood.
“What happened?”
She put the call on speaker.
The doctor repeated it.
Elodie sat up.
Her face changed.
Then she whispered,
“Grandma puts pink medicine in Jonah's juice.”
Maribel turned.
“How often?”
May you like
Elodie began crying.
“Whenever the camera goes dark.”
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