Chapter 2 - The Trojan Horse
I sat in the driver's seat, my mind racing through the layout of Chloe's house.
I knew every inch of that property because I had helped them paint the baseboards when they moved in.
Derek was meticulous about security, but he was also profoundly lazy.
He never locked the side door leading from the garage into the mudroom because he hated carrying his golf clubs around to the front.
I slipped out of my car again, this time leaving my purse behind and carrying only my phone and my heavy steel flashlight.
The garage keypad was a simple code: Chloe's birth year.
I punched in the four digits, and the heavy door began to rumble upward.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I didn't wait for the door to fully open before I rolled underneath it, scraping my knee on the concrete.
The side door was exactly as I expected: unlocked.
I twisted the handle and eased it open, stepping into the scent of lavender detergent and damp winter coats.
From the hallway, I could still hear Derek’s muffled voice in the kitchen.
"I need to grab my laptop from the study," he told the woman on the phone.
Footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor, moving away from the kitchen and towards the front of the house.
This was my window of opportunity.
I slipped off my sensible walking shoes, continuing in only my socks to silence my footsteps entirely.
I moved through the kitchen, my eyes darting to the alarm panel by the fridge.
Derek had disabled the interior motion sensors, likely to prevent the alarm from triggering while he paced.
I crept toward the main staircase, the oak steps looming before me like a mountain.
Every step required a calculated shift in weight, avoiding the creaky floorboards I knew by heart.
Halfway up the stairs, a sudden crash from the study made me freeze.
"Damn it!" Derek shouted, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
He had dropped something, and his frustration was boiling over.
I used the noise to my advantage, scurrying up the remaining steps and diving into the upstairs hallway.
The door to the master suite was at the far end, tightly shut.
A heavy, brass padlock had been hastily installed on the outside of the door frame.
The sight of it sent a fresh wave of blinding fury through my veins.
My daughter was treated like a wild animal in a cage.
May you like
I approached the door and pressed my lips close to the seam.
"Chloe," I breathed, barely louder than a sigh.
