Chapter 8 - The Basement Trapdoor
Miller didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbing Samuel by the collar of his jumpsuit and slamming him against the living room wall with a heavy thud that rattled the picture frames.
"You’re under arrest," Miller barked, pressing his forearm against Samuel’s throat. "Hands behind your back right now!"
Samuel didn't struggle. He just laughed—a wet, rattling sound that bubbled up from his chest. He turned his head toward Arthur, his dark eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "Ask her, Arthur. Ask the little girl where she got her favorite red ribbon. The one she tied around my wrist."
Arthur staggered backward, his chest tightening. He remembered the red ribbon Maya had been carrying around last week—a ribbon he assumed came from one of her school crafts. But it matched the fabric of the old winter coat found inside the canvas bag.
"Where is Maya?" Arthur yelled, abandoning any sense of caution as he rushed toward the hallway. "Maya!"
There was no answer from her bedroom. The door stood open, the curtains billowing wildly in the wind from the open window. The bed was unmade, the blankets tossed aside, but the little pink dress she had been wearing earlier was lying neatly folded on the pillow—completely dry, and stained with fresh, dark blood.
Arthur fell to his knees beside the bed, his hands hovering over the garment as if it were radioactive. "No. No, no, no."
Miller appeared in the doorway, keeping one hand on the subdued intruder behind him. "Arthur, we need to get out of this house right now. Call state backup. The whole property is compromised."
"She’s gone," Arthur whispered, staring blankly at the folded dress. "She was right here."
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"She didn't run away," Samuel’s voice drifted down the hallway, perfectly calm now. "She went down to finish what my brother started. You should have checked the well in the backyard before you signed the deed."
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