Chapter 4 - The Voice at the Door
The realization hit Arthur like a physical blow. She wasn't just humming anymore; she was standing right up against the wooden barrier, speaking with a clarity that defied the weeks of isolation and starvation he had inflicted upon her.
“Arthur,” the voice rasped again, softer this time, carrying a haunting familiarity that made Clara cover her ears with both hands. “I know you’re out there. I can smell the pine wood and the dust on your boots. Let the boy open the lock.”
Leo’s eyes widened with a mixture of terror and triumph. He looked at his father, waiting for him to break. But Arthur’s face had gone completely rigid, drained of all color. He backed away from the shed door instinctively, his hand reaching out to shield Leo from the threshold.
“Shut up!” Arthur shouted toward the wood, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate fury. “You have no right to speak to him!”
“She has every right!” Leo yelled back, his voice breaking as fresh tears spilled over his dirty cheeks. “She’s my mother! You’re the one who’s lying to everyone! You told the police she ran away to the city, but she never left the yard!”
Clara grabbed Arthur’s arm, her fingernails digging through his shirt. “Arthur, look at the window frame! Someone is watching us from the treeline!”
Arthur whipped his head around toward the dense perimeter of pine trees bordering their property. For a fraction of a second, a flicker of movement disturbed the deep shadows of the forest—a flash of a blue jacket and the unmistakable glint of metal reflecting the fading sunlight. Someone had been standing among the trees, quietly observing the entire confrontation between father and son.
“Who’s there?!” Arthur bellowed, letting go of Leo and taking three long strides toward the edge of the lawn.
The woods remained dead silent. The wind died down completely, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing and the faint, rhythmic scraping of rope against wood coming from inside the dark shed.
Leo didn’t look at the woods. Instead, he dropped to his knees, picking up the heavy iron hammer that had fallen into the dirt. Before Arthur could turn back to stop him, Leo swung the tool with every ounce of his remaining strength directly at the rusted padlock.
Clang!
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The deafening sound echoed across the empty fields. A deep fracture appeared in the aging wooden beam right above the iron latch, splintering outward like a spiderweb.
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