The Quiet Evidence

The power remained out for almost an hour.

In the darkness, the house became a collection of breathing bodies and uncertain footsteps. Mara heard Dana searching for the lantern. Silas cursed near the stairs. Cole moved quietly along the hall.

Then a key slid across the bathroom floor.

It stopped beside Mara’s knee.

Cole’s voice came through the dark.

“I can’t unlock the chain without them hearing.”

“Then don’t.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Open June’s door.”

He hesitated. “The key for the west room is on Dana’s ring.”

“Get it.”

“Mara—”

“You said you wanted to help.”

Cole moved away.

Mara placed the key against the padlock and waited. The metal was cold. Her hands shook so hard that she had to steady one wrist with the other.

The lock opened on the second try.

The chain still bound her ankle, but its length allowed her to stand. Pain flashed through her back. She leaned against the sink until it passed.

The door was open a hand’s width. Beyond it, the hall was black.

Mara crawled through, pulling the chain behind her. The metal scraped against the tile, but the wind covered the sound.

She reached the hallway and saw a faint rectangle of snowlight through the front window. The blue paint beneath the trim was visible even in darkness.

The west room was three doors away.

Mara moved one careful step at a time. Her body felt heavy, but her mind was clear. The camera had recorded her. Tessa had heard her. If she could reach June, they would no longer be isolated victims in separate rooms.

At the west room, she found the door locked.

From inside came June’s voice.

“Mara?”

“I’m here.”

“The key is on Dana.”

“Cole is getting it.”

“He may not return.”

“Then we wait.”

Mara lowered herself to the floor. Her ankle throbbed beneath the chain. She pressed her palm against her stomach and felt the baby shift.

“Are you all right?” June asked.

“Not entirely.”

“That’s an honest answer.”

“I’m trying something new.”

Footsteps sounded at the far end of the hall.

Mara pulled herself into the shadow beside the door. Silas passed with the lantern held high. He was speaking into the black phone.

“The storm will delay them. Move to the secondary property once the road clears.”

He stopped near the west room.

“You’re making this difficult,” he said to June.

“You started difficult,” she answered.

Silas raised the lantern toward the locked door.

Mara held her breath.

The sound of a vehicle outside interrupted him. Tires struggled against snow.

“The transport is here,” Dana called from the back entrance.

Silas turned away.

Mara crawled toward the stairs. At the bottom, she saw a row of muddy boots and a coat hanging from a peg. One boot held a ring of keys.

She reached for them, but a floorboard groaned.

Silas turned.

Mara pulled the coat over herself and lay still. He crossed the hall, lantern light passing over the fabric.

“Mara?”

She heard the baby’s heartbeat only in her imagination.

Silas moved closer.

From the west room, June began pounding against the door.

“Help!”

Silas pivoted toward the noise.

Mara seized the keys and dragged herself behind the staircase.

Dana entered carrying a medical stretcher. Cole followed her, his face bruised.

“Where is she?” Dana demanded.

“Find her.”

The hallway erupted into shouting.

Mara tried keys until one turned in the basement door. She slipped inside and pulled it nearly closed.

The basement smelled of soil and old wood. A narrow window near the ceiling let in stormlight. Pipes crossed the walls. On a shelf sat boxes marked with the lighthouse emblem.

She did not have time to inspect them.

At the far end, a second door opened onto the back porch.

Mara pushed it open. Snow blew against her face. She crawled into the darkness and wedged herself behind a stack of firewood.

The cold was immediate and punishing. She could hear the house behind her, but no one saw where she went.

She looked toward the red farmhouse. A single light glowed in its upper window.

Then she saw a shadow move there.