Chapter 7 - THE PAPER TRAIL
I burst through the mudroom door,
my heart hammer-pounding in my chest.
“Ethan!
Mom!”
The kitchen was empty.
The broken glass had been cleaned up,
the tile shining under the fluorescent lights.
I ran to the living room.
My mother was sitting on the sofa,
her face in her hands.
“Where is he,
Mom?”
She looked up,
her eyes red-rimmed and hollow.
“Gary took him to the basement.”
“He said they were going to look for Dad’s old train tracks.”
I felt a cold shiver go down my spine.
The basement was where my father had built his workshop.
It was where Ethan spent most of his time when Dad was alive.
“How could you,
Mom?”
I screamed.
“How could you take his money?”
“He killed Dad!”
She began to sob,
a broken,
shuddering sound.
“I didn't have a choice,
Brooke!”
“They threatened to take you both away!”
“They said I was unfit!”
“Gary said he would protect us if I just stayed quiet.”
“He’s going to kill Ethan!”
I didn't wait for her to answer.
I ran for the basement door.
It was locked from the other side.
I threw my weight against it,
but it wouldn't budge.
“Ethan!”
I screamed,
banging my fists against the wood.
I heard a muffled sound from below.
A rhythmic tapping.
Ethan.
He was tapping out a code on the pipes.
Three taps.
Short.
Short.
Long.
The Morse code for 'S'.
He was trying to signal me.
I looked around the kitchen for anything to break the door down.
My mother stood up,
her face hardening.
She walked to the junk drawer and pulled out a heavy brass key.
“The spare,”
she whispered,
handing it to me.
“Save him,
Brooke.”
I didn't say a word.
I took the key and unlocked the door.
The stairs were dark,
the air smelling of damp concrete and old paper.
I saw Gary standing near the furnace.
He had Ethan pinned against the wall.
He was holding the pocket knife to Ethan’s throat.
“Tell me where it is,
you little freak!”
Gary hissed.
Ethan’s eyes were wide,
but he wasn't crying.
He was looking at the furnace.
The old,
blue furnace.
“Blue trains come home,”
he whispered.
I realized then.
The log book wasn't in a box.
It was inside the furnace casing.
My father had hidden it in the one place Gary would never look.
“Get away from him,
Gary!”
I shouted,
stepping onto the basement floor.
Gary turned,
the knife still pressed against Ethan’s skin.
“You’re just in time,
Brooke,”
he said,
May you like
a cruel smile on his face.
“Ethan was just about to tell me the secret.”
