Chapter 6 - The Decoy
I grabbed Lucy’s arm and shoved her into the walk-in closet, hiding her behind a row of winter coats.
The bedroom door swung open, and Arthur stood there holding a heavy iron fireplace poker.
His eyes widened in shock when he saw me standing alone in the middle of the room.
He had expected to catch a terrified child, not a furious grandfather with nothing to lose.
“You’re trespassing, Charles,” Arthur sneered, gripping the iron rod tighter.
“I could kill you right now, and the police would call it self-defense.”
“Where is the envelope, Arthur?” I bluffed, keeping my hands visible.
“I came here to find it, but it looks like you tore this room apart already.”
Arthur frowned, glancing at the disrupted carpet near the closet.
He took a step toward me, raising the heavy iron poker above his shoulder.
“Evelyn is calling the police right now,” he said, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
“You're going to rot in prison, and those brats are going into the worst foster home I can find.”
Just as he stepped forward, a loud, piercing car alarm erupted from the street outside.
It was my neighbor's farm truck.
Arthur flinched, turning his head toward the window in a moment of pure distraction.
I didn't hesitate.
I lunged forward and drove my shoulder hard into his chest, sending him crashing into the hallway wall.
The iron poker clattered against the hardwood floor.
“Run, Lucy!” I roared.
Lucy sprinted out of the closet, clutching the yellow envelope to her chest, and bolted down the stairs.
I scrambled to my feet and followed her, hearing Arthur screaming in rage behind me.
We burst through the front door just as Evelyn was coming out of the kitchen with a phone in her hand.
We sprinted across the manicured lawn, the wet grass slipping beneath my shoes.
We reached the farm truck, where Rachel had accidentally kicked the panic button on the keys I left them.
I threw Lucy into the cab, jumped into the driver's seat, and slammed the truck into gear.
The tires squealed against the asphalt as we sped away into the night.
We had done it.
We had the envelope, the final piece of evidence that would end Arthur's reign of terror.
Ten miles down the highway, I finally pulled over at a deserted, well-lit gas station.
My hands were shaking so violently I could barely put the truck in park.
“Open it, Lucy,” I breathed out, leaning back against the seat.
Lucy tore the top of the yellow envelope off and dumped the contents into her lap.
There was no flash drive inside.
May you like
Instead, a single folded piece of paper fell out, covered in Evelyn's handwriting.
“You really thought we didn't search the house before the funeral?” the note read.
