Chapter 1 - THE SOUND FROM THE SHED
Claire Bennett had only seven seconds to speak after her father answered.
“Dad!” she screamed into the phone. “Please come get me!”
Rain hammered the roof above her. Her entire body shook as she gripped the phone with both hands. Wet brown hair clung to her bruised face, and the thin fabric across her shoulder had torn during the struggle.
“Claire?” Richard's voice sharpened. “Where are you?”
She looked toward the open doorway.
Someone was coming.
Terror flooded her face.
“Logan, he—”
A hand tore the phone away.
The call ended.
Thirty-two minutes later, Richard's truck slid to a stop outside the Mercer estate. He ran through the rain and struck the front door with both fists.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Margaret Mercer opened it wearing an elegant cream robe, as though the storm and the late hour were inconveniences arranged specifically to embarrass her.
Richard tried to step inside.
She blocked him.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Lower your voice.”
“Claire called me screaming. Where is she?”
Margaret's mouth tightened. “Stop making a scene. It's a family matter.”
Richard pushed against the door. Margaret planted one hand on the frame and refused to move.
Logan appeared behind her.
His dark hair and button-down shirt were wet. One sleeve had been rolled carelessly above his elbow. He did not look frightened for Claire or ashamed of the panic in her call.
“She needed to learn some respect,” he said.
Richard stared at his son-in-law.
“What did you do to her?”
Logan gave him a dismissive smile.
Then a faint sound reached them through the storm.
It came from the wooden shed beside the house.
Richard turned.
Margaret grabbed his arm. “Don't go in there.”
The alarm in her voice was the first honest thing she had shown him.
Richard pulled free and ran across the rain-soaked lawn. Logan shouted behind him, but Richard did not stop.
The shed door was locked.
“Claire!”
No answer.
He yanked the handle, then drove his shoulder into the wet wood. Pain shot down his arm. He struck it again.
The frame broke.
Richard stumbled inside and stopped.
Claire lay unconscious on the wooden floor.
Her soaked hair covered part of her face. Torn, dirty clothing clung to her body. Dark bruises marked her arms, shoulders, and legs. Rainwater had entered beneath the door and spread around one bare hand.
Richard forgot how to breathe.
Behind him, Logan and Margaret reached the broken doorway.
Richard dropped beside his daughter but was afraid to move her.
May you like
“Claire,” he whispered.
She did not open her eyes.
