PART 3
I pressed one hand over Tyler’s mouth before he could say anything.
My son looked at me with wide eyes.
Mark stood beside the dining table.
He looked at the three untouched plates.
Then he slowly pulled out a chair.
He sat down.
For several seconds, he did absolutely nothing.
Then he picked up Noah’s fork.
Turned it over.
Placed it back beside the plate.
He was waiting.
For us to come back.
For someone to make a mistake.
I felt Noah trembling against me.
“Mommy said Daddy would come,” he whispered so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.
I leaned closer.
“What did your mother tell you?”
Noah swallowed.
“She said if Daddy ever came here asking for me, I had to hide.”
My stomach dropped.
Emily had never said anything like that to me.
Not once.
The last time I’d spoken to my sister, she had sounded tired but normal.
She’d told me Noah needed a few weeks away.
She’d said she had some things to deal with.
I’d assumed it was marriage trouble.
I had been wrong.
Completely wrong.
Mark suddenly stood.
He walked toward the hallway.
Then stopped.
His head turned slightly.
He was listening.
I held my breath.
The house became painfully quiet.
Then my phone vibrated inside my pocket.
I nearly screamed.
I grabbed it and looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
One text.
DO NOT CALL THE POLICE YET. HE KNOWS SOMEONE IS WATCHING HIM.
My fingers went numb.
Another message appeared.
GET THE BOYS TO THE SHED. THERE IS A SECOND EXIT.
I stared at the words.
Who was texting me?
How did they know where we were?
Before I could think, Mark walked toward the back door.
I gently pulled Tyler and Noah deeper into the bushes.
The door opened.
Mark stepped outside.
He looked left.
Then right.
His eyes moved slowly across the backyard.
The pool.
The patio.
The fence.
The flowerpots.
Then the bushes.
My heart stopped.
He took one step toward us.
Then another.
Noah suddenly grabbed my hand.
He pointed toward the far corner of the yard.
The old garden shed.
I remembered it had a small door on the opposite side leading toward the alley.
Tyler had used it once when he lost a baseball.
I nodded.
We waited until Mark turned toward the pool.
Then I moved.
One hand around Tyler’s wrist.
One around Noah’s.
We crawled through the mulch.
Every branch sounded like a gunshot in my head.
A twig snapped beneath Tyler’s knee.
Mark turned.
I froze.
He stared directly at the bushes.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“No. They’re not here.”
Another pause.
His expression changed.
“How do you know?”
I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end.
But Mark’s face became darker.
“Then find them before she calls anyone.”
He ended the call.
My blood ran cold.
He wasn’t looking for Noah because he was worried about his son.
Someone else was looking for us too.
We reached the shed.
I opened the tiny door.
The boys slipped inside.
I followed and pulled it closed behind us.
It was dark.
The smell of old lawn equipment and damp wood filled the tiny space.
Tyler whispered, “Mom, what’s happening?”
I put my finger to my lips.
Outside, footsteps moved across the grass.
Mark was searching.
Noah reached into his pocket.
His little fingers pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I have something else.”
“What is it?”
He unfolded it.
A child’s drawing.
A house.
A blue car.
A woman.
And three red X’s.
I stared at it.
“Who drew this?”
“Mommy.”
“Why?”
Noah looked down.
“She told me to remember.”
I unfolded the paper completely.
