Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Empty Halls
The tires crunched over the gravel driveway of the small rental house, the headlights sweeping across peeling white paint and overgrown boxwood hedges. Kristen cut the engine, plunging the car into an uneasy silence broken only by the ticking of cooling metal.
"Mom, are we staying here?" Leo asked, his voice small in the backseat as he clutched his crumpled turkey craft.
"Yes, buddy. We’re home," Kristen lied smoothly, though her stomach twisted into knots.
She unbuckled Maya, who had fallen into an exhausted, tear-streaked sleep against the door panel, and scooped the six-year-old into her arms. The alert on her phone had vanished, replaced by a text from her landlord warning that the municipal water main on their street had mysteriously burst an hour ago, flooding the crawlspace.
As they walked up the front steps, Kristen noticed the front door was slightly ajar. The heavy oak portal, which she was certain she had double-bolted before driving out to her mother’s estate, now bore splintered wood around the deadbolt.
"Stay behind me, Leo," Kristen whispered, setting Maya gently on the welcome mat and pulling a heavy iron flashlight from her canvas tote bag.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She pushed the door open with the flat of her palm. The interior smelled of damp drywall and something metallic, like copper wire. Floorboards groaned under unseen weight from the second-floor landing.
"Who's there?" Kristen called out, her voice echoing in the unfurnished foyer.
May you like
No one answered. But as she swept the flashlight beam across the living room baseboards, she saw a muddy boot print on the pristine beige rug—a boot print belonging to a brand of industrial workwear that only one specific contractor in their county wore. And that contractor worked exclusively for Eleanor’s real estate firm.
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