Chapter 7 - The Steps Above
The slow, rhythmic creak of wooden steps coming from the ceiling above them sent an immediate chill down Maya’s spine. Someone—or something—was walking across the unfinished floorboards of the attic, moving deliberately toward the pull-down staircase concealed in the hallway ceiling.
"Diane..." Maya whispered, her grip tightening around the plastic handle of the baby's car seat. Marcus and Zuri pressed tightly against her legs, burying their faces in her jeans.
Diane didn't answer. She dropped the heavy iron poker to the carpet with a dull thud, raising her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook as a dry, suppressed sob broke through her defenses. The strong, unyielding matriarch who had slammed the door in Maya's face just thirty minutes ago was completely gone, replaced by a woman drowning under the weight of a catastrophic secret.
"You shouldn't have come back, Maya," Diane choked out, her voice trembling. "The moment you walked up those steps... you signed our death warrant."
"I had nowhere else to go!" Maya yelled back, tears streaming down her face. "Terrell was supposed to take us to the airport, but he dumped me! What was I supposed to do, sleep in the car with a newborn?"
"Terrell didn't dump you by accident," a smooth, unfamiliar voice echoed from above them.
Everyone froze. Maya looked up toward the ceiling. The cord for the attic stairs began to sway gently, casting a long, twisting shadow under the hallway light.
"What did you say?" Maya shouted into the empty air above.
The attic pull-down stairs suddenly unlatched with a loud snap, folding downward in a series of metallic screeches. Dust and old insulation drifted down like gray snow. Standing at the top of the ladder, half-shrouded in darkness, was a man wearing a dark tailored suit. He wasn't old like Arthur; he looked to be in his mid-thirties, with sharp features and cold, calculating eyes. And pinned to the lapel of his jacket was a silver pin shaped like an interlocking key.
"Terrell works for us, Maya," the man said calmly, descending the ladder one slow step at a time. "He was the courier. His job was to deliver you and the children right back to where you belong."
Maya staggered backward, the car seat nearly slipping from her trembling fingers. "No... that's a lie. Terrell loves me."
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"Terrell loves money," the man replied, stepping onto the hallway carpet. "And your family owes us a debt that three generations of blood couldn't possibly pay off."
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