Chapter 4: The Empty Nest
While Detective Miller questioned David downtown, social worker Elena Vance returned to the Elm Street house accompanied by a county property inspector and a local animal control officer named Marcus. The front door remained unlocked, left ajar by the responding patrol unit. Inside, the house was preternaturally quiet. Marcus carried a heavy canvas transport bag, his flashlight sweeping across the baseboards and corners of the hallway.
“Corn snakes aren’t native to this region, and they certainly don’t appear in children’s beds by accident,” Marcus murmured, crouching near the base of the staircase to inspect a discarded heating pad. “This animal was well-fed. Someone was actively caring for it right alongside the kid.”
Elena walked upstairs, pushing open the door to Avery’s room. The lavender comforter had been pulled back by the police, revealing a striped mattress underneath. On the bedside table sat a framed photograph of Avery and David smiling at a local pumpkin patch. David’s arm was draped heavily around Avery’s shoulder, his fingers gripping her arm just a fraction too tightly—a detail Elena hadn’t noticed in the static lighting of the living room, but which stood out sharply now.
“Look at this,” the property inspector called out from the walk-in closet at the back of the bedroom.
Elena stepped over the threshold, ducking under the wooden lintel. The closet was surprisingly spacious for a child’s room, lined with rows of small dresses and bins of plastic toys. However, against the back wall, a section of the drywall appeared slightly discolored. The inspector tapped it with the handle of a heavy flashlight, producing a hollow, echoing thud rather than the solid resistance of a stud wall.
“It’s a false partition,” the inspector said, running his fingers along the seam. “There’s a space behind here. Probably about two feet deep running the length of the bedroom.”
Elena felt a surge of dread. She stepped forward, helping the inspector pry open the thin wooden panel with a flathead screwdriver. As the panel gave way with a sharp crack, a wave of stale, humid air rushed out into the closet, carrying a distinct, earthy odor of reptile bedding and old dust.
May you like
Inside the cavity, illuminated by the inspector’s flashlight, were not more snakes, but a collection of items that made Elena’s breath catch in her throat. There were dozens of empty terrarium boxes, discarded shed snake skins piled neatly in plastic bags, and, most disturbingly, a series of audio cassette tapes labeled with dates spanning the last three years. Each tape bore a handwritten title consisting only of time markers and numbers.
“Marcus,” Elena called out softly, her voice trembling slightly. “You need to come up here right now.”
