Chapter 7 - The Body in the Hallway
The heavy thud shook the floorboards, followed immediately by Detective Miller’s sharp voice barking orders down the hallway.
"Drop the weapon! Hands behind your head! Do it now!"
David didn't wait. With Lily clutched securely in his arms, he rushed past the kitchen threshold and into the dim hallway, his sneakers squeaking against the linoleum before hitting the hardwood.
Miller stood over a figure sprawled on the floor just outside the master bedroom door. The shattered glass from the hallway display cabinet littered the floor like jagged diamonds, reflecting the overhead recessed lighting.
Stretched out on the broken glass was Marcus, Clara’s younger brother, dressed entirely in black tactical gear with a heavy crowbar lying a few feet away from his outstretched, bleeding hand. His right cheek was pressed against the hardwood, a deep crimson gash leaking blood onto the polished wood.
"Marcus?" David stopped dead in his tracks, the name tearing out of his throat in pure disbelief.
Clara stepped into the hallway right behind David, her footsteps crunching lightly on the glass. She didn't gasp. She didn't drop her jaw in shock. She simply looked down at her bleeding brother with a look of cold, disappointed disapproval, as if he had tracked mud onto a clean rug.
Marcus groaned, his eyes flickering open as he stared up at the barrel of Miller’s service pistol pointing inches from his face.
"Well, well," Miller said, keeping his weapon steady while motioning for his officers to slap cuffs on Marcus’s wrists. "Looks like your organizational system extends to break-ins, Mrs. Evans. Care to tell me why your brother was trying to rip the drywall out of your master closet?"
Marcus spat a mouthful of blood onto the floorboards and glared up at Clara. His eyes were wild, desperate, and filled with a frantic betrayal.
"She told me to do it!" Marcus shouted, his voice cracking as the officers hauled him roughly to his feet. He jerked his head toward Clara. "She texted me five minutes ago! Said the feds found the ledger and I needed to get in through the back window to empty the wall safe before you guys tore the house apart!"
Miller lowered his gun slightly, his gaze shifting slowly from Marcus back to Clara.
Clara’s expression remained an unreadable mask of calm. She didn't flinch, she didn't stammer, and she didn't break eye contact with the detective.
"My brother has struggled with substance abuse and severe delusions for years, Detective," Clara said smoothly, her voice carrying an eerie, practiced cadence that sounded rehearsed. "He’s been breaking into properties during his manic episodes. That's why we changed the security codes last month. He must have snuck in through the alley."
Marcus stared at his sister in absolute horror, his face contorting in rage. "You lying psychopath! You gave me the security code yourself! You said if the cops showed up, I had to destroy the backup drives in the wall safe or we’d both go down for the insurance—"
"Shut him up," Clara interrupted, her voice dropping into a cold, lethal whisper that sent a shiver straight down David’s spine.
Before the officers could drag Marcus away toward the front exit, Marcus twisted violently in their grip and lunged toward Clara, his eyes wide with a frantic, last-ditch desperation.
May you like
"She doesn't just fake the fires, David!" Marcus screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing off the walls. "Ask her about the first daughter! Ask her what really happened to Chloe!"
---
