Chapter 2 - The Red Switch
I survived the first hour by counting breaths.
Four in. Four out. Do not move the leg. Do not think about the locked door.
The pain medicine had been in my purse, which Lenora had carried away. My mouth was dry enough to crack. Every pulse in my thigh felt like a hammer striking bone.
Then I remembered the red switch.
Ruth had installed it beneath the workbench after a fall in the garden left her unable to reach the house. “Never trust a locked door,” she had told me. “Trust a second way out.”
I dragged myself across the concrete using my elbows. The brace snagged on a nail, and I bit down on my sleeve to keep from screaming. Under the bench, my fingers found dust, a spiderweb, and finally a small metal plate.
The switch clicked when I pressed it.
Somewhere inside the wall, an old motor groaned. A narrow panel beside the garage door released with a pop.
Beyond it was a shelf holding bottled water, a flashlight, a first-aid kit, and a corded emergency phone.
I grabbed the receiver.
“Nine-one-one,” the dispatcher answered.
My voice came out thin. “My name is Camille Arden. I’ve had surgery. My husband and his mother locked me in my garage without medication or assistance. I may have been assaulted.”
“Are you in immediate danger?”
I looked at the door.
“Yes.”
“Stay on the line.”
The deadbolt began to turn.
I dropped the receiver and pulled the first-aid kit toward me. The door opened two inches before the chain caught.
“Camille?” Grant called. “Are you awake?”
I held my breath.
“She’s probably sleeping,” Lenora said behind him. “Open it.”
“The chain is on.”
“Break it.”
I reached for the flashlight and struck its metal end against the phone cradle. The dispatcher’s voice shouted from the floor.
“Camille? Camille, respond!”
Grant froze.
Lenora swore.
“The police are coming,” I said. “You should both step away from the door.”
Grant’s face appeared in the gap. “You called the police?”
“You left me without my blood thinner.”
“We were going to bring it.”
“You were going to let me die.”
His expression hardened. “Don’t make this worse.”
“You already did.”
Headlights swept across the garage windows. A car door slammed. Lenora grabbed Grant’s arm.
“Tell them she fell,” she hissed.
“She did fall.”
“Tell them she’s confused.”
The chain snapped loose under Grant’s shoulder just as two officers entered the driveway.
Officer Mara Velez stepped inside first. Her gaze moved from my brace to the overturned workbench, then to Grant’s hand on the broken chain.
“Nobody move,” she said.
Lenora lifted both hands. “This is a family misunderstanding.”
Mara crouched beside me. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened?”
I looked past her at my husband.
“My husband and his mother dragged me into this room eleven minutes after I came home from surgery and locked the door.”
Grant shook his head. “She’s medicated.”
Mara’s partner glanced at the red mark beneath my jaw. “And that?”
“She grabbed me,” Grant said.
Lenora stepped in quickly. “Camille has always been dramatic.”
Mara’s eyes sharpened. “Then you won’t mind if we separate everyone and take statements.”
As the paramedics lifted me onto a stretcher, I saw Lenora glance beneath the workbench.
She had noticed the open panel.
May you like
The next person she called would not be a doctor.
It would be whoever knew what Ruth had hidden under the concrete.
