Chapter 3
David sprinted across the immaculate lawn toward the carriage house, his light blue shirt billowing behind him. The old wooden doors were held shut by a heavy iron hasp, but David didn't hesitate. He grabbed a heavy landscaping stone from the garden border and slammed it against the padlock until the rusted shackle finally snapped, dropping into the weeds with a dull thud.
Inside, the shed smelled of old gasoline, fertilizer, and dust motes dancing in the shafts of light. David’s eyes darted frantically over the shelves crowded with gardening shears, trowels, and coiled hoses. He pushed past bags of soil until his hand struck a cold, heavy handle. Pulling it out into the light, his heart leapt. It was a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters with bright yellow rubber grips, their jaws thick and forged from hardened carbon steel.
Back on the lawn, Sarah had not moved an inch from the cage. She knelt in the damp clover, whispering soothing reassurances to Toby, whose breathing had grown shallower. "Just a few more minutes, buddy. Daddy is getting us out of here. Keep looking at Mommy’s eyes."
Eleanor watched David approach from the carriage house, the heavy bolt cutters swinging at his side. A faint, knowing smile touched the corner of the older woman’s lips, though it did not reach her cold, faded eyes. She did not attempt to run or block his path; she merely stepped aside, granting him unobstructed access to the metal prison she had constructed.
David dropped to his knees beside Sarah. The yellow grips of the bolt cutters felt slippery in his sweat-slicked palms. He positioned the hardened steel jaws around the thick brass padlock dangling from the cage door. "Hold your ears, Toby," David whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
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With a grunt of pure adrenaline, David squeezed the handles together. The mechanical advantage of the long steel levers amplified his strength, but the padlock was marine-grade brass, designed to withstand years of weather and tampering. The jaws bit deep into the metal, sending a sharp, high-pitched screech ringing across the quiet garden. A shower of metallic sparks flew into the grass, singeing a blade of green clover.
Toby flinched, burying his face in his small arms as the noise vibrated through the cage bars. Sarah pressed her hands over her own ears, watching the stubborn brass resist the initial pressure. David reset his grip, his muscles straining against the unyielding metal, determined to shatter the barrier holding his son captive.
