Chapter 7 - The Rusted Latch
The footsteps paused on the landing. Evelyn held her breath, pressing her back flat against the floral wallpaper of the guest room. The corridor outside was pitch black, save for the faint glow of the streetlamp bleeding through the frosted bathroom window.
“Evelyn,” Marcus called out, his voice smooth and unnervingly calm. “I know you’re in there. Don’t make this difficult. We just need to have a little family chat about what your father left behind.”
Evelyn didn’t answer. Her fingers frantically clawed at the window latch, trying to force the rusted metal teeth apart. The paint was thick, sealing the frame shut against the humid night air. She grabbed a heavy glass paperweight from the bedside table and smashed it against the wooden corner of the window frame, praying the sound was muffled enough by the storm outside.
With a sharp crack, the wood splintered, and the window pushed open, letting in a rush of cool, wet air.
Downstairs, a door slammed, and Richard’s voice echoed up the stairwell. “Did you find her? We don’t have time for games, Marcus! The audit committee opens tomorrow at eight!”
“She’s right here,” Marcus replied, taking a slow step toward the guest bedroom door. “And she’s about to realize just how deep this rabbit hole goes.”
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She threw her legs over the windowsill, her yellow dress catching on a stray nail before ripping free with a loud tear. She dropped heavily onto the wet mulch of the flowerbed below, pain shooting up her ankle as she hit the ground.
May you like
She scrambled to her feet, limping hard toward the edge of the property line where the thick suburban hedges offered a brief moment of cover. As she looked back over her shoulder, she saw Marcus leaning out of the second-story window, holding up a manila folder in the moonlight with a sickening grin.
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