PART 2
Looking down at Chloe, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.
A tiny red light was blinking inside the glass eye of her stuffed bunny.
Once.
Twice.
Then it disappeared.
My stomach dropped.
“Chloe,” I whispered, keeping my voice calm. “Where did you get that bunny?”
She clutched it tighter against her chest.
“David gave him to me.”
Outside, David knocked again.
Three slow thuds.
“Marcus,” he called through the door. “There’s no reason to make this difficult.”
I lifted the phone back to my ear.
“Sarah,” I whispered. “There’s something inside Chloe’s stuffed animal.”
My sister stopped breathing.
“What color is the light?”
“Red.”
“Get it away from her.”
The terror in Sarah’s voice made me move instantly.
I gently took the bunny from Chloe.
She resisted at first, wrapping both arms around it.
“No!” she cried. “Mr. Hops has to stay with me!”
“Sweetheart, I promise I’ll give him back. I just need to look at something.”
Her eyes shot toward the front door.
“He’ll be angry.”
“David?”
She nodded.
“He said Mr. Hops always has to see me.”
A sick feeling rolled through my stomach.
I turned the stuffed rabbit over. The fabric looked ordinary, but one seam along its back had been stitched with black thread instead of white.
I tore it open with my fingers.
Something hard was hidden beneath the stuffing.
A small electronic device fell into my palm.
It had a camera lens, a microphone and a blinking red indicator.
David hadn’t merely tracked Chloe to my house.
He had been watching her.
Listening to us.
Maybe from the moment Sarah dropped her off.
The knocking stopped.
For several seconds, the entire house went silent.
Then David spoke again.
“Chicken stew, Marcus?”
My blood froze.
“You always did think you were a better cook than Sarah.”
He had heard everything.
Every question Chloe had asked.
Every secret she had whispered.
Every word Sarah and I had said.
Chloe covered her mouth with both hands.
“He heard me,” she whispered.
“No.” I crushed the device beneath my heel. “He can’t hear you anymore.”
The little red light went dark.
David’s calm voice vanished.
When he spoke again, there was no kindness left in it.
“Open the door.”
I grabbed Chloe’s shoulders gently.
“Go upstairs. Lock yourself in the bathroom.”
Her face twisted with panic.
“You’ll put the chair there.”
“No chairs. I promise.”
“I don’t want to be locked in.”
“You won’t be. You’ll lock the door from the inside, and you can open it whenever you want.”
She stared at me, trembling.
I handed her my old cell phone from the kitchen drawer.
It didn’t have service, but it could still call emergency services.
“Press the emergency button if anyone comes upstairs.”
“Are you coming?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
That was a lie.
I hated myself for telling it, but I needed her away from the windows and the front door.
She ran upstairs, clutching the phone instead of her bunny.
I watched until she disappeared down the hallway.
Then I called 911.
A dispatcher answered immediately.
“911. What is your emergency?”
“There is a man outside my house trying to take my five-year-old niece. He has been starving her, locking her in her bedroom and recording her with a hidden camera.”
“Is he armed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is your niece inside with you?”
“Yes.”
“Do not open the door. Officers are being dispatched.”
David must have seen me through the narrow window beside the entrance.
He raised his voice.
“Calling the police is a mistake, Marcus.”
The dispatcher heard him.
“Sir, move away from the entrance.”
I backed toward the kitchen.
Sarah was still connected on my other phone.
“Tell me what you found,” I said.
“I can’t explain everything right now.”
“You’d better start.”
“I found the camera in Chloe’s smoke detector last night. David was asleep, so I took it down. There was a memory card inside.”
“What was on it?”
Sarah began crying.
“Videos.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What kind of videos?”
“Nothing like what you’re thinking,” she said quickly. “But they were still horrible. Chloe being locked in her room. Chloe crying for food. David making her stand facing the wall for hours.”
I closed my eyes.
“And you?”
Silence.
“Sarah, where were you in those videos?”
“Sometimes I was at work.”
“And the other times?”
She started hyperventilating again.
“I was there.”
The words nearly dropped me to my knees.
“You watched him do it?”
“He told me it was discipline.”
“She’s five years old!”
“I know!”
Her scream broke through the speaker.
“I know what I did, Marcus. I know what I allowed. I kept telling myself it wasn’t abuse because he never left bruises where people could see them. I kept telling myself Chloe needed structure. That I was tired. That I couldn’t afford the apartment without him.”
My hand shook with rage.
“You let your daughter starve because your boyfriend paid the rent?”
“I was afraid of him.”
“Chloe was afraid of both of you.”
Sarah went silent.
She had no defense against that.
Neither did I.
Outside, I heard metal scraping against the front lock.
David had a key.
I lunged toward the door and slid the deadbolt into place.
The handle turned.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
“Where did he get a key to my house?” I demanded.
Sarah inhaled sharply.
“He took your keys during Mom’s birthday dinner.”
“That was six months ago.”
“He must have made a copy.”
David twisted the handle again.
The deadbolt held.
I grabbed the heavy iron poker beside my fireplace.
The dispatcher was still speaking.
“Officers are approximately four minutes away. Stay away from the door.”
Four minutes sounded like an eternity.
“Sarah, you said the camera wasn’t the worst thing you found.”
She lowered her voice.
“There was a locked metal box under our bed. I broke it open after I found the memory card.”
“What was inside?”
“Punishment schedules.”
I looked at the paper on my kitchen counter.
“No dinner. Water only. No speaking. Lockdown.”
“There were dozens of them,” she said. “Not just Chloe’s.”
My throat tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“There were other children’s names.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“How many?”
“At least nine.”
I stared at the destroyed camera beneath my shoe.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know. There were photographs, addresses and notes about their behavior. Some of the pages were several years old.”
“Before you met David?”
“Yes.”
A loud crack exploded from the front door.
David had kicked it.
The wooden frame shuddered.
Chloe screamed from upstairs.
“Uncle Marcus!”
“I’m here!” I shouted. “Stay in the bathroom!”
David kicked the door again.
“Marcus, you don’t understand what you’re protecting!”
“I understand enough!”
“No, you don’t.”
His voice became calm again.
Too calm.
“Ask Sarah who wrote Chloe’s schedule.”
I looked down at the paper.
The neat adult handwriting suddenly looked familiar.
The rounded M.
The long tail beneath the Y.
I had seen it on birthday cards.
Christmas gifts.
Notes Sarah used to leave on Mom’s refrigerator.
My sister had written every word.
“Sarah,” I said slowly. “Did you write this?”
She began sobbing.
“Marcus—”
“Did you write the schedule?”
“Yes.”
I felt physically sick.
“Why?”
“Because he made me.”
“Did he hold a gun to your head?”
“He had recordings of me!”
“Recordings of what?”
“Of me following his rules. Taking Chloe’s plate away. Locking her door. Telling her she was bad.”
Her voice cracked.
“He said if I ever left, he would send the videos to the police and tell everyone it was my idea. He said I’d go to prison and Chloe would be placed in foster care.”
“You should have called me.”
“I was ashamed.”
“You should have called anyone!”
“I know.”
Another kick struck the door.
A thin crack appeared in the frame beside the deadbolt.
I tightened my grip on the iron poker.
“What did you do with the box?”
“I took it with me.”
“You have the evidence?”
“Yes. I was supposed to meet an attorney in Portland this morning.”
“Supposed to?”
“David followed me.”
I stopped breathing.
“Where are you now?”
A pause.
Then Sarah whispered:
“Locked inside a bathroom at a gas station outside Tacoma.”
“You told me you were in Portland.”
“I never made it there.”
“Call the police!”
“I did. But David has someone helping him.”
“What are you talking about?”
Before she could answer, my porch light went out.
Then the lights in my living room flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The entire house went black.
David had cut the power.
Chloe began crying upstairs.
“Uncle Marcus!”
“I’m still here!”
The front door groaned beneath another kick.
The cracked frame splintered further.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.
I could see David’s shape through the narrow window.
He stepped back.
Preparing to strike the door again.
Then red and blue lights flashed across my living room walls.
Sirens filled the street.
David immediately lowered his foot.
By the time two police cruisers stopped outside, his entire posture had changed.
He straightened his jacket.
Smoothed his hair.
Put on the face of the perfect gentleman my family had trusted for almost two years.
“Thank God you’re here!” he shouted as the officers approached. “My girlfriend’s brother has kidnapped her daughter.”
I wanted to break through the door and hit him.
Instead, I forced myself to stay inside until an officer ordered David to step away.
Two officers separated him from the entrance.
A third knocked.
“Seattle Police. Is Marcus inside?”
I opened the door but kept the poker lowered at my side.
David stared at me from the driveway.
There was no fear in his expression.
He smiled.
Not a wide smile.
Just enough to let me know he still believed he was in control.
I showed the officers the punishment schedule, the torn bunny and the broken recording device.
One officer examined the paper.
“Where is the child?”
“Upstairs.”
“We need to speak with her.”
“She’s terrified.”
“We’ll use a child specialist, but first we need to confirm she’s safe.”
I called up the stairs.
“Chloe, the police are here.”
No answer.
I climbed halfway up.
“Sweetheart, you can come out now.”
The bathroom door creaked open.
Chloe appeared in the hallway.
She saw David standing outside.
A scream tore from her throat.
She ran toward me so quickly that she nearly fell down the stairs.
I caught her and carried her into the living room.
David tried to approach.
“Chloe, baby, it’s okay.”
She buried her face in my shoulder.
“Keep him away from her!” I shouted.
The officers blocked him.
David raised both hands innocently.
“I would never hurt her. Sarah has been having some kind of breakdown. Her brother clearly believes whatever she told him.”
The officer holding the schedule looked toward Chloe.
“Did David stop you from eating?”
Chloe’s whole body went rigid.
She glanced at David.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t need to.
His expression was enough.
She shook her head.
“No.”
My heart sank.
“Chloe, you can tell them the truth.”
“I get dinner every day,” she recited.
Her voice was empty.
Practiced.
“I have a happy home. David takes good care of me. My mom gets confused sometimes.”
David’s smile grew slightly.
The officers exchanged uncertain looks.
“Sweetheart,” I said, “you told me about the water days.”
Her fingernails dug into my shirt.
“I made it up.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I’m a liar.”
David finally spoke.
“She has an active imagination.”
I turned on him.
“She is terrified of you!”
“She’s terrified because you’re shouting.”
One of the officers placed a hand against my chest.
“Sir, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Look at that camera. Look at the schedule!”
The officer examining the broken device turned it over.
“This could be a commercial baby monitor.”
“It was hidden inside her toy!”
“Do you have proof he put it there?”
“Chloe said he gave it to her.”
The officer crouched in front of Chloe.
“Did David give you the bunny?”
She closed her eyes.
“No.”
David’s smile disappeared for half a second.
Not because she had lied for him.
Because she had almost hesitated.
That tiny pause told me everything.
Sarah’s voice suddenly came through my phone.
“Put me on speaker.”
I had forgotten she was still connected.
I held the phone up.
“Officer,” Sarah said, “my name is Sarah Bennett. I am Chloe’s mother. David is not her father, and he does not have permission to take her.”
David’s face hardened.
“Sarah is emotionally unstable,” he said.
“I found nine files,” Sarah continued. “Nine children. I have photographs, punishment records and video evidence.”
The officers’ demeanor changed immediately.
The oldest officer stepped closer to David.
“Sir, place your hands behind your back.”
David laughed.
“You’re arresting me because a hysterical woman made an accusation over the phone?”
“We’re detaining you while we investigate.”
“You’re making a serious mistake.”
The officer reached for his wrist.
David moved suddenly.
For one terrifying second, I thought he was reaching for a weapon.
Instead, he grabbed his phone and slammed it against the driveway.
The screen shattered.
The officers forced him against the hood of the patrol car.
Chloe flinched at the sound of the handcuffs closing.
David turned his head toward us.
His eyes locked onto hers.
“Friday,” he said.
Just one word.
Chloe began screaming.
“Stop!” she cried. “Please, I’ll be good! I’ll be good!”
I covered her ears.
“What does Friday mean?” the officer demanded.
David said nothing.
Sarah was shouting through my phone.
“Don’t let him destroy anything else! His phone connects to the cameras!”
An officer picked up the broken device and placed it in an evidence bag.
Another officer called for detectives and child protective services.
For the first time since the nightmare began, I allowed myself to believe Chloe might be safe.
David was handcuffed.
The police were here.
Sarah had evidence.
It was over.
Then the oldest officer walked back inside carrying the electronic device from Chloe’s bunny.
He had removed the crushed outer case and exposed the circuit board.
His expression was troubled.
“You said this led David to your house?”
“I assumed it had a tracker.”
The officer shook his head.
“This isn’t using GPS.”
“Then how did he find us?”
“It’s a short-range transmitter. Whoever was receiving the signal would need to be very close.”
“How close?”
“A few hundred feet.”
I looked through the window at David.
He had arrived alone.
At least, that was what I had believed.
The officer examined the device again.
“The transmitter is still connected to its receiver.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone nearby is still listening.”
A floorboard creaked above us.
Everyone went silent.
I looked toward the staircase.
Chloe was still in my arms.
The officers were downstairs.
No one was supposed to be on the second floor.
Another creak came from the hallway.
Then the guest-room door slowly swung shut.
One officer drew his weapon.
“Is anyone else inside this house?”
“No.”
Chloe lifted her head from my shoulder.
Her face had gone white.
“Chloe,” I whispered, “is there someone upstairs?”
She stared toward the dark hallway.
Tears filled her eyes.
“The quiet man.”
My skin turned cold.
“What quiet man?”
“The one David makes watch me when Mommy isn’t home.”
A shadow moved behind the railing at the top of the stairs.
And then a man’s voice whispered from the darkness:
“Friday lockdown starts early this week.”………………..
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3…
