Chapter 2
Mark stared at his daughter, trying to process the chilling weight of her words. Sarah would never abandon the children. She loved them fiercely, often spending hours reading to Louis or rocking the baby to sleep. To leave them alone in a house with shattered ceramic and spilled milk was completely out of character. Yet, the quietness of the hallways and the locked back door confirmed that Sarah was gone.
"What do you mean, sweetie?" Mark asked, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. He reached out calloused hands, carefully lifting the infant out of Louis’s stiff, tired arms. The baby whimpered softly, snuggling into Mark’s plaid shirt, smelling faintly of baby powder and sour milk. "Did Mommy say where she was going?"
Louis shook her head, pulling her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her small arms around herself, shivering despite the warmth of the afternoon sun streaming through the kitchen windows. "She got a phone call, Daddy. A really loud call. Her face turned super white, like paper. She told me to watch the baby and keep the doors locked. Then she ran out the back door without her shoes."
Mark’s heart hammered against his ribs. Without her shoes? Sarah hated walking outside barefoot, even onto the back deck. Panic surged through him, threatening to override his common sense. He stood up, balancing the baby securely against his shoulder, and extended a gentle hand down to his daughter.
"Come on, Louis. Let's get you up off the floor," Mark said, guiding the little girl to her feet. He led them out of the messy kitchen and into the living room. He sat Louis down on the couch, handing her a soft throw blanket to wrap around her damp shoulders.
Walking over to the front entryway, Mark spotted Sarah’s cell phone lying facedown on the wooden console table. He picked it up quickly, praying for a notification, a text message, or a recent call log that might explain this nightmare. The screen lit up instantly, displaying a single missed call from an unknown, restricted number, received just moments before he arrived home. There were no outgoing messages, no notes on the counter, and no clues pointing to her destination.
Mark felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. He walked back to the living room, looking down at his vulnerable children. Louis was staring blankly at the television screen, which remained dark and turned off. The silence of the suburban neighborhood outside suddenly felt less peaceful and much more ominous.
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"Did she say anything else, Louis? Anything at all about who called?" Mark pressed gently, kneeling beside the couch.
Louis blinked, a tear finally escaping and tracking down her dusty cheek. "She said... she said she had to fix a mistake from a long time ago. And she told me to be brave."
