Chapter 2 - The Man on My Couch
I knew the sound of someone trying not to be heard. I'd heard it in field hospitals and cramped shelters overseas. What came through that floor wasn't a pipe settling.
"Who is downstairs?" I asked.
Mom's eyes filled. "He told me they'd take Ben if I spoke."
I sent a message to my closest friend, Captain Raina Torres: CALL 911 TO MY ADDRESS IF I DON'T ANSWER IN FIVE MINUTES. Then I walked into the living room.
Evan had his feet on our coffee table, scrolling through sports scores. Vivian sat in my favorite chair wearing one of my silk scarves.
"Look who remembered she's married," Vivian said.
"Who is in my basement?"
Evan's smile froze. "What?"
"Answer me."
"It's storage, Claire. We've been over this."
"Then you won't mind opening it."
Vivian set down her drink. "You march in here after abandoning your family for nearly two weeks and start interrogating people? Your mother has been difficult enough."
"My mother has bruises."
"She falls," Evan replied quickly.
I held his gaze. "Ben saw you grab her."
His eyes flashed toward the kitchen. That one glance told me more than his answer.
"Kids make things up."
"Not my kid."
I stepped toward the hall. Evan stood and blocked me, suddenly close enough that I could smell whiskey on his breath.
"You're tired," he said. "Take a shower. We'll talk tomorrow."
I didn't raise my voice. "Move."
He didn't.
Then his phone lit on the coffee table. A message appeared beneath a name saved as NOLAN: SHE CANNOT SEE THE PATIENTS. NOT BEFORE THE TRANSFERS.
I looked up slowly.
May you like
"What patients, Evan?"
From behind the basement door came a crash, followed by a weak, unmistakable scream.
