Chapter 3 - The Broken Glass
The sound of shattering glass tore through the dark house like a gunshot.
April let out a terrified scream from the living room.
I grabbed the heavy brass flashlight I always kept on the entryway table.
“Girls, run up to the guest bedroom and lock the door!” I yelled into the darkness.
I heard their quick footsteps scrambling up the wooden staircase.
I clicked on the heavy flashlight, sending a bright beam cutting through the pitch-black hallway.
The cold night wind whipped through the broken patio door, bringing the smell of rain and wet soil into the kitchen.
I stepped carefully over the jagged shards of glass, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm in my chest.
Someone was in my house.
I swung the beam of light toward the kitchen island, ready to swing the heavy flashlight at an intruder's head.
But there was no one there.
A large rock covered in mud sat on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass.
A piece of white paper was wrapped tightly around the rock with a black rubber band.
I lowered the flashlight, my hands trembling with adrenaline and rage.
I untied the wet paper and smoothed it out under the harsh beam of the flashlight.
The message was written in thick red marker.
“This is your only warning, Charles.”
“Give me the notebook and the flash drive by tomorrow morning, or I take the girls by force.”
“Child Protective Services already has my fabricated file on you.”
I crushed the paper in my fist, a deep, primal anger taking over my grief.
Arthur wasn't just a murderer; he was a coward hiding behind threats and legal manipulation.
I rushed upstairs to the guest bedroom and knocked on the locked door.
“It’s Grandpa, let me in,” I said softly.
Lucy unlocked the door, her face pale in the glow of her cell phone screen.
The three girls were huddled together on the bed, looking like terrified little birds.
“Did he get in?” Rachel asked, her voice shaking uncontrollably.
“No, sweetheart, he just threw a rock to scare us,” I promised, sitting on the edge of the bed.
I looked at Lucy, remembering the threat written on the paper.
“Lucy, Arthur mentioned a flash drive,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
“Do you know anything about a flash drive?”
Lucy looked down at her lap and slowly nodded.
“Mom gave me a small yellow envelope before she died,” she confessed.
“She said it held the final proof to send Dad to prison.”
Relief washed over me; we actually had the weapon we needed to destroy him.
“Where is the envelope now?” I asked urgently.
Lucy burst into tears, covering her face with her small hands.
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“I was so scared he would search my bags for it,” she sobbed.
“I hid the envelope under the floorboards in my bedroom at Dad's house.”
