My daughter hadn’t replied for a week, so I went to her house—my son-in-law said she was away on a trip, but a faint sound from inside made me question everything

Detective Ruiz’s voice cut through the rain.

“Or you explain the locked garage.”

Mark’s hand dropped.

For the first time, his arrogance cracked.

And I smiled.

Just a little.

Part 3

The garage door opened with a scream of metal.

Emily lay on the floor beside an overturned chair, wrists bruised, mouth taped, her hair stuck to her cheeks. Alive.

Alive.

I ran toward continue reading …