I went in Ben’s SUV. Sam drove behind us. Willow’s farm, he thinks, was 15 minutes from town, past the feed store, past the old gas station, over where the road narrowed and the trees closed in on both sides.
I had been there before, years ago, at Thanksgiving dinners and summer barbecues, and at one awful Christmas when Linda insisted we all sing carols before dessert.
Now, every kilometer toward that house felt like a kilometer toward a grave that had been waiting for years with its lid open. No one spoke much inside the SUV. Ben kept one hand near the radio and the other firmly gripping the steering wheel.
I sat rigidly in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, every muscle tense. Behind us, in the rearview mirror, I could see Sam’s headlights, steady and close. My mind was racing.
Janet was hurt, but she could walk. She would recognize me. They would have filled her head with so many lies that she would be afraid of me too. I clenched my fist against my chest and prayed silently.
As we turned onto Willow Creek Road, the farmhouse appeared at the end of a long dirt road. The white paint was peeling, the porch sagging, the windows dark. From the outside, it looked sleepy, ordinary.
That was the worst part. Evil loves ordinary places. It hides best where people least want to see it. Ben parked near the side entrance. Two assistants arrived behind us.
He turned to me one last time. “Keep the house with Agent Murpe.” I nodded, but my hands were freezing. The bunch of keys in Linda’s purse jingled softly in Ben’s hand as he got out of the car.
A key for the front door, another for the side door, a small brass one, a black one with red ribbon wrapped around the top. She studied them all. Then Ryan’s voice came through the radio from the other vehicle, frantic and trembling.
They need to hurry. Ben grabbed the radio instantly. Why? There was a crackle in the signal. Then Ryan answered, each word landing like a thunderclap. Because Curtis arrives at 6, and if he finds out she’s tried to escape again, he’ll move her before you guys get in.
Ben didn’t wait another second. The moment Ryan’s warning crackled over the radio, the entire courtyard shifted. The calm vanished. Everything became urgent, sharp, and dangerous.
Agent Mur moved closer to me. Sam jumped out of his truck so fast he almost ripped the door off its hinges. He sold fast orders in a low but firm voice. “Come in through the back now.”
Watch the barn. Watch the road. The farmhouse lay before us as if it held secrets hidden in every wall. I had been there years before, for Sunday lunches, birthdays, and family photos on the porch.
It had seemed like a welcoming place then, perhaps a little old-fashioned, but harmless—a house with ivy on the gate and cakes cooling on the windowsills. Now all I saw was a lie disguised as a home.
Ben tried the side door with one of Linda’s keys. It clicked open. He turned to me. “Stay here.” I nodded. I intended to obey. I really did.
But then a cold wind stirred through the trees, and with it came a faint, muffled sound, so faint I almost thought I’d imagined it. A dull thud, then another.
From inside the house. My whole body froze. I knew that sound, not with my ears, but with my heart. “Janet,” I whispered. Ben and the helpers disappeared down the side hallway with Sam right behind them.
I stayed with Agent Mur by the back steps, staring at the open door. The air that escaped smelled of stale, musty air, of dust and cold wood, and something hidden for too long.
Then I heard voices inside, quick and low, a door opening, a boot hitting the floor, a heavy dragging sound, and then a man yelled, “Serif!” After that, everything exploded. Agent Mu reacted instantly, raising one hand to stop me and reaching for the radio with the other.
Another helper ran around the house. I heard banging and crashing from inside. The kind of crashing that means people aren’t talking anymore, they’re fighting. I should have stayed back.
I know. But when a mother hears chaos in the place where her daughter might be trapped, the rules become meaningless. I pushed past the crowd and ran inside.
She yelled after me, but I didn’t stop. The farmhouse hallway was narrow and gloomy, filled with old family photos that made my stomach churn. Linda smiling in church clothes, Ryan as a boy—little scenes from a life that had always seemed respectable from the outside.
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