Chapter 4 - The Lie Upstairs
He whispered that if I made a single sound, neither me nor the baby would leave this room alive.
I stayed perfectly still, feeling the cold steel pressing into my pulse.
Muffled voices drifted down through the dusty floorboards above us.
I could hear the deep, authoritative voice of the sheriff asking for me by name.
My mother-in-law answered in a perfectly smooth, concerned tone.
She lied effortlessly, claiming I was visiting my sister in another state because of pregnancy complications.
The sheriff mentioned a dropped 911 call from this exact address.
She laughed a warm, polite laugh, blaming it on my husband’s clumsy fingers while fixing a broken radio.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I desperately needed the sheriff to ask to search the property.
Instead, the sheriff apologized for the intrusion.
I heard the heavy, distinct sound of the officer’s boots turning back toward the front steps.
They were actually going to get away with this.
My husband’s grip loosened slightly as he let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Another intense contraction gripped my stomach, making me instinctively gasp.
The knife pressed harder against my skin, drawing a thin line of warm blood.
I realized nobody was coming to save me.
If I wanted my baby to live, I had to create a distraction.
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My bound hands brushed against a jagged piece of broken masonry on the dirt floor.
I wrapped my fingers around the sharp rock and swung it blindly at his face.
