Chapter 1 - HE CRAWLED TO MY PORCH
The screwdriver slipped from my hand and struck the porch boards.
I barely heard it.
For a second, all I could hear was scraping.
Slow.
Uneven.
Wrong.
I turned toward the steps.
Drew was pulling himself toward me with both hands.
Six years old.
Face gray beneath dirt.
Shirt torn at one shoulder.
One leg dragged behind him at an angle that made my stomach turn.
Three year old Lily clung to the back of his shirt with both fists.
She looked even smaller.
Her lips were dry.
Her knees were scraped.
She was barefoot.
“Drew.”
I ran.
His arms collapsed as I reached him.
I caught him beneath the shoulders before his face hit the porch.
“Uncle Peter.”
His voice barely existed.
“What happened?”
He tried to look behind him.
“She locked us downstairs again.”
Again.
The word struck harder than anything else.
Lily made a weak sound.
I lifted her first.
She weighed almost nothing.
Then I tried to move Drew.
The moment my hand touched his injured leg, he bit into his lip so hard it turned white.
“Don’t move it.”
“I had to.”
“What?”
“I had to get Lily out.”
He had crawled seven blocks.
I learned that later.
At that moment, all I understood was that my dead brother’s son had dragged himself through a suburban neighborhood with a badly injured leg because whatever waited inside Reena’s house frightened him more than pain.
I carried Lily inside.
Then went back for Drew.
He wrapped one arm around my neck.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I got your porch dirty.”
That nearly destroyed me.
“You never apologize for coming here.”
I laid him on the couch.
Lily immediately crawled beside him.
I brought water.
Crackers.
Banana.
She grabbed the crackers with both hands.
Drew stopped her.
“Slow, Lily.”
He broke one cracker in half.
“Little bites.”
I stared.
Six years old.
Injured.
Exhausted.
Still taking care of his sister.
I pulled out my phone.
“I’m calling 911.”
Drew panicked.
His hand shot out and clawed at my sleeve.
“No.”
“Buddy.”
“Don’t call her.”
“I’m not calling Reena.”
“She’ll come.”
“I won’t let her take you.”
His eyes filled.
“Don’t send us back.”
I knelt.
“You are not going back with anyone until people understand what happened.”
I called.
The dispatcher kept me talking while I checked Lily’s breathing and kept Drew still.
Then tires screamed outside.
Drew went rigid.
“No.”
A dark sedan stopped crooked beside my gate.
Reena climbed out.
She wore black boots, fitted slacks, and a dark leather jacket despite the summer heat.
She crossed the yard fast.
“Drew!”
He recoiled.
Lily started crying.
Reena reached the porch.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I stood between her and the children.
“Back up.”
“They are my kids.”
“You are their stepmother.”
“I have legal custody.”
“You can discuss that with police.”
Her face changed.
“You called them?”
“Yes.”
She shoved past me.
I caught her arm.
“Do not.”
She ripped free and grabbed Lily.
Lily screamed.
I knocked Reena’s hand away.
“Get your hands off her.”
Reena’s face twisted.
“They’re lying little parasites.”
Behind me, Drew made a sound.
Not crying.
Fear.
Reena lunged toward him.
I blocked her.
She stumbled backward down one porch step.
Then Drew started fighting with something beneath his chest.
A backpack.
Dirty.
One strap torn.
He pulled it toward me.
Reena saw it.
Her face went white.
“Give me that.”
Drew hugged it.
“No.”
“Drew.”
Her voice became different.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
“Give me the bag.”
He shook his head.
She rushed forward.
I caught her shoulders and pushed her back.
Police sirens grew louder.
She stopped.
I took the backpack from Drew.
“What is in here?”
He whispered:
“Dad’s stuff.”
Reena lunged again.
“Peter, don’t.”
That was the first time she sounded afraid.
I opened the backpack.
Turned it over.
Crushed food wrappers fell onto the porch.
A child’s sock.
Two crayons.
A small metal key.
Then a dirt stained envelope.
My name was written across the front.
PETER.
I knew the handwriting before I touched it.
Aaron.
My brother.
Dead three years.
My hands started shaking.
Drew grabbed my wrist.
“Dad hid it before he died.”
Police lights flashed between the houses.
Reena stared at the envelope like it could kill her.
I looked at her.
Then at my brother’s handwriting.
May you like
And for the first time since Aaron’s funeral, I wondered whether I had ever understood what he died believing.
Continue to the next part: Aaron’s sealed letter tells Peter that if Drew ever brings him the key, something has gone terribly wrong inside the house.
