Chapter 2 - The Predator’s Panic
Back in the Palm Shores neighborhood,
the lights were on in the Miller mansion,
but the atmosphere was far from peaceful.
Logan Miller stood in the center of the kitchen,
his breathing heavy,
his expensive silk shirt damp with sweat.
The basement door was wide open,
swinging slightly on its hinges,
leading down to the empty,
windowless bathroom.
"Where is she?"
Logan roared,
slamming his fist onto the marble island.
Brenda,
his mother,
stood by the sink,
her huge ring of keys clinking in her trembling hands.
"I don't know,
Logan!"
"The vent cover was gone,"
"she must have squeezed through the window during the peak of the storm."
"She’s barefoot,
for God's sake!"
Logan grabbed his phone,
opening the tracking app with trembling fingers.
"The signal is dead,"
he hissed,
staring at the last known location near the highway.
"It just cut out an hour ago."
"If she talks,
Logan,"
Brenda whispered,
her face pale under the kitchen lights,
"if she shows those bruises to anyone,"
"we're finished."
"The loans,
the forged signatures..."
"everything falls apart."
Logan turned on her,
his eyes wild with a mixture of rage and fear.
"She won't talk!"
"Who would believe her?"
"We have Paige!"
"Paige can testify that she's been having a mental breakdown,"
"that she’s been self-harming!"
Just then,
Paige walked into the room,
her face buried in her own phone.
"I’ve already called the private clinic,"
she said,
her voice cold and clinical.
"I told them my sister-in-law had a violent episode and fled."
"I told them she’s a danger to herself."
"But we need to find her before she reaches a public hospital."
Logan paced the floor,
his mind racing through the legalities.
"Her father,"
he muttered,
stopping in his tracks.
"The Captain."
"He was supposed to be back tonight."
Brenda scoffed,
waving a hand dismissively.
"He’s been at sea for twenty years,
Logan."
"He barely knows her."
"He’s a sailor,
not a lawyer."
"We can play him like a fiddle,"
"tell him she’s sick,"
"tell him we’ve been trying to help her."
Logan nodded,
trying to convince himself.
"Yeah."
"Yeah,
that’s the plan."
"We find her,
we bring her back,"
"we make her sign the power of attorney,"
"and then we put her away where she can’t hurt our reputation."
But as he looked out the window at the rain,
Logan felt a strange shiver.
He didn't know that the phone he was trying to track was already dust.
He didn't know that his wife was sitting in a room guarded by armed sentries.
He didn't know that the "sailor" he was dismissing
was a man who had coordinated multi-national task forces.
The Millers sat in their elegant prison,
thinking they were the ones holding the keys,
while the locks were already being changed.
Brenda sat at the table,
measuring a cup of rice out of habit,
her eyes darting to the door.
"She’s just a girl,"
Brenda whispered.
"A girl we broke."
But the rain didn't answer,
May you like
and the silence of the house felt like a trap,
closing in around them with every passing second.
