Chapter 3 - The Shadow in the House
The blood completely drained from my face.
I dropped the phone and sprinted up the stairs as fast as my legs could carry me.
I burst into Ben's bedroom, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
Ben was sound asleep, his small chest rising and falling peacefully under his blankets.
I ran to the window and frantically checked the locks.
The latch was completely broken, and a muddy boot print was smeared across the white windowsill.
Someone had been inside my house while I was standing in Monica's front yard.
I scooped Ben into my arms, ignoring his sleepy protests, and ran to my daughter's room.
I grabbed my three-year-old girl and carried them both downstairs to the safest room in the house.
I locked us inside the windowless pantry and pulled my father's old hunting rifle from the high shelf.
I loaded it with shaking hands and sat in the dark, pointing the barrel at the door.
We stayed there for hours until the morning sun finally broke through the kitchen windows.
When I finally felt safe enough to emerge, I checked the entire house.
Nothing was stolen, and the metal lockbox was exactly where I left it on the kitchen table.
But there was a new piece of paper pinned to the refrigerator with a magnet.
It was an official notice of foreclosure from the local bank.
It claimed that Daniel had taken out a massive secret loan against the house just days before he died.
I called the bank immediately, demanding to speak to the loan officer who approved it.
The receptionist put me on hold for what felt like an eternity.
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When a man finally picked up the line, his voice sent a chilling shock down my spine.
"I told you the apples were only the beginning, Claire," the bank manager whispered.
