Chapter 4: The Empty House
Back in the suburban home, the balloons were slowly deflating, sagging toward the carpet like tired sentinels.
Mark Vance stood in the center of the silent living room, a can of beer in his hand. The party guests had long since cleared out, whispering among themselves as they left. The house was unnervingly quiet.
""Hannah?"" Mark called out, his voice sharp with lingering irritation. ""Hannah, stop playing games and come out.""
There was no answer.
He walked into the kitchen. Her car keys were gone from the hook. Her purse, her laptop bag, and Lily’s travel stroller were missing from the hall closet. A cold spike of panic shot through him, instantly masked by a surge of defensive anger.
*She’ll be back by nightfall,* he told himself, tossing the empty beer can into the recycling bin. *Where else is she going to go? She has no career, no savings, and no family within five hundred miles. She’ll crawl back as soon as she runs out of gas money.*
He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.
It went straight to voicemail. He tried again. Still voicemail.
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Mark paced across the hardwood floor, his jaw tight. He convinced himself that Hannah was simply testing his authority, staging a melodramatic exit to manipulate him into apologizing. He sat down on the leather sofa, crossing his arms, determined to wait her out. He would not call her parents. He would not show weakness. He would let her learn the hard way that defiance had consequences.
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