Chapter 3 - The Grieving Widow
The front door opened before I even reached the porch.
My mother stood in the foyer, wearing her black mourning dress. But the frail, tearful woman from the cemetery was gone. Her posture was rigid. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, and cold as ice.
"Elias," she said softly. "Where have you been? I told you to come home immediately."
"I just needed a minute to drive, Mom," I lied, keeping my voice steady and exhausted. "It's been a long day. Where are Sarah and the boys?"
"They're in the den," she said, stepping aside to let me in.
As I walked past her, I noticed two men in the kitchen. They were dismantling the security cameras my father had installed last year.
"What are they doing?" I asked.
"Upgrading the system," she said smoothly. "With your father gone, we need to ensure the estate is secure. Did you stop anywhere on your way home?"
She was testing me.
"Just the liquor store," I said, pulling a bottle of scotch I kept in my trunk out of my coat pocket. "Dad's favorite."
Her gaze lingered on the bottle, then on my face. Finally, she nodded. "Go see your wife. Dinner is in twenty minutes."
I walked down the hallway, every nerve in my body screaming. When I pushed open the double doors to the den, Sarah was sitting on the sofa, clutching our twin boys against her chest. Her eyes were wide with terror.
Standing in the corner of the room was a man I didn't recognize, holding a suppressed pistol at his side.
"Elias," Sarah gasped, standing up.
"It's okay, honey," I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around her.
As I hugged her, I leaned my mouth against her ear.
"Don't react," I whispered so faintly only she could hear. "In exactly five minutes, grab the boys and run to the basement panic room. Lock the steel door."
May you like
I pulled back and kissed her forehead. She looked at me, terrified, but she gave a microscopic nod.
I turned to the man with the gun. "I'm going to have dinner with my mother. Give us some privacy."
