Chapter 5
The midday sun offered little warmth as Leo dragged a heavy wooden splitting maul toward the chopping block behind the shed. His small hands were already blistered from the cold and the rough labor, but he forced himself to lift the heavy tool, swinging it down onto a thick log of seasoned oak. The blade struck true, splitting the wood with a sharp crack that echoed across the quiet yard. Buster lay a few feet away in the snow, keeping a watchful eye on every movement, his dark silhouette a constant source of quiet reassurance. Every swing of the maul felt like a physical manifestation of Leo's frustration, a way to channel the anger and sorrow of losing his father and being trapped in this hostile environment.
Through the kitchen window, Evelyn occasionally glanced out, watching his progress with critical eyes to ensure he was not slacking off. She had lived in the house for only two years, having married Leo’s father during a brief, turbulent period before his untimely illness. After his passing, she had systematically cut ties with all of Leo’s extended family, claiming they were a bad influence while quietly consolidating control over the property and the remaining finances. Leo had overheard hushed phone conversations late at night, fragments of sentences about legal documents, bank accounts, and a mysterious safe hidden somewhere in the house. He knew she was hiding something, a secret that gave her such absolute power over their lives.
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As the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, painting the snow in shades of blue and purple, Leo stacked the newly split wood neatly against the side of the shed. His breathing was heavy, misting in the cold air, and his back ached from the unaccustomed physical strain. Buster trotted over, nudging the boy's aching hand with his wet nose, encouraging a brief pause in the labor. Leo dropped the maul, sinking down onto a dry log to catch his breath. He looked toward the main house, noticing for the first time that the basement window—usually latched from the inside—was slightly ajar, fluttering a torn piece of old plastic sheeting in the breeze.
A sudden curiosity stirred within him. The basement was strictly off-limits, a rule Evelyn enforced with disproportionate anger whenever Leo ventured near the cellar stairs. Why would a basement window be left unlatched in the dead of winter unless someone had been down there recently in a hurry? Buster seemed to sense the shift in the boy’s attention, letting out a low, inquisitive whine and trotting toward the cellar well. Leo stood up slowly, brushing the woodchips from his pajamas, his heart beginning to beat a little faster. This overlooked detail might just be the key to understanding the woman who held them captive in their own home.
