Chapter 4
The crunch of gravel outside stopped dead in its tracks. Inside the garage, the four of them froze, holding their breath as the ambient hum of the evening neighborhood seemed to vanish entirely. Mark’s eyes widened with sudden panic. He quickly snatched the parchment from Leo’s hand, folded it with practiced urgency, and shoved it deep into the pocket of his khaki pants.
"Get inside, now," Mark hissed under his breath, grabbing Leo by the shoulder and pushing him gently toward the interior door where Sarah and Maya stood waiting.
"Wait, someone's out there," Leo whispered, resisting the push for a split second as he glanced toward the small, grime-covered window that looked out onto the driveway. The fading sunlight cast long, distorted shadows across the yard, but through the glass, a tall silhouette stood motionless beside their mailbox, staring directly toward the open garage door.
"I said inside, Leo! Do it now!" Mark’s voice was stern, laced with a terrifying sense of urgency that brooked no argument.
Sarah ushered Maya through the doorway, pulling the interior door shut until it clicked softly, leaving Mark and Leo standing alone in the dim light of the garage. The red pillow still rested forgotten in the corner near the dusty shelves. Mark stepped in front of his son, using his height to shield him from the view of anyone looking through the window, his jaw clenched tightly as he listened for any sound from outside.
A slow, heavy knock echoed against the wooden exterior door of the garage. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Mark didn't answer immediately. He stood motionless, his hand drifting instinctively toward the heavy iron wrench resting on the workbench beside him. The knock came again, louder this time, accompanied by the muffled scrape of a shoe against the concrete threshold.
"Open up, Mark," a voice called out from the dark outside. It was smooth, raspy, and entirely unfamiliar, yet carried an eerie tone of quiet familiarity. "I know you're in there. And I know you found what was hidden in the wall."
Leo’s heart pounded against his ribs. He looked at his father, searching his face for answers, but Mark’s expression was an impenetrable wall of dread.
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"Stay back by the workbench," Mark whispered to Leo without turning around. He took a deep breath, braced his shoulders, and walked steadily across the concrete floor toward the heavy wooden door. With a sharp twist of the metal handle, Mark pulled the door open, revealing the stranger standing in the shadows of the dusk.
Standing on the threshold was a middle-aged man in a dark trench coat, wearing a weathered fedora that cast a deep shadow over his face. He smiled slowly, revealing a glint of silver as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an identical brass cylinder, setting it down on the small table by the door.
