Chapter 2 - The police arrived twelve minutes later.Two officers came through the front door while a third waited outside.
I had never been so relieved to see strangers.
One officer, a broad-shouldered man named Harris, looked at me.
“Where is your daughter?”
“Upstairs.”
“And your husband?”
“Bathroom.”
He nodded.
“Stay here.”
The second officer moved toward the staircase.
I followed anyway.
Then we heard the bathroom door slam.
“Mark?” Officer Harris called.
No answer.
“Sophie?” he shouted.
Silence.
The sound of running water stopped.
For three seconds, everything in the house went completely still.
Then the bathroom door opened.
Mark stepped into the hallway.
His hair was wet.
His sleeves were rolled up.
And he looked almost amused.
“What is this?”
Officer Harris blocked the stairs.
“Sir, step away from the bathroom.”
Mark frowned.
“My daughter is in there.”
“We know.”
“She needs help getting dressed.”
Officer Harris looked behind him.
“Please step away.”
Mark's expression changed.
For the first time, I saw anger.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Anger.
“You called the police on me?”
I couldn't answer.
One of the officers entered the bathroom.
A few seconds later, he came back holding the paper cup.
He said nothing.
That silence frightened me more than anything.
Then they brought Sophie downstairs.
She had her pajamas on.
Her hair was wrapped in a towel.
When she saw me, she ran straight into my arms.
“Mommy.”
I held her tightly.
Mark was still arguing.
“It was a memory game.”
Officer Harris looked at him.
“A memory game?”
“Yes.”
“What was in the cup?”
“Water.”
“Why was she being timed?”
Mark sighed.
“She struggles with anxiety. We practice answering questions under pressure.”
I stared at him.
“Questions about what?”
He looked at me.
“Things she forgets.”
“What things?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he smiled.
A tiny, controlled smile.
The kind he used when he wanted to make me feel unreasonable.
Officer Harris asked me to step into the kitchen.
“We need to talk to Sophie alone.”
“No,” Mark said immediately.
“She can talk to her mother.”
“Actually,” the officer replied, “we need to speak with her without either parent present.”
Mark's jaw tightened.
“That isn't necessary.”
Officer Harris looked directly at him.
“Sir, we're past necessary.”
The police took Sophie into the dining room.
A female officer sat beside her.
I stayed in the kitchen.
Mark stood across from me.
For the first time since I had known him, I couldn't read his face.
“You made a mistake,” he whispered.
“What?”
“You don't know what you're doing.”
“You were making our daughter repeat answers.”
“I was protecting her.”
“From what?”
He didn't answer.
The female officer opened the door.
“Sophie would like to speak with her mother.”
I rushed in.
Sophie was holding a small stuffed rabbit.
The officer nodded toward her.
“She has something she wants to tell you.”
I sat down.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
Sophie looked at the door.
Then at Mark.
Then back at me.
“Daddy said if I tell Mommy about the red box…”
She stopped.
“What red box?”
Sophie hugged the rabbit tighter.
“…then the man would come.”
My skin went cold.
“What man?”
Before she could answer, the lights in the house suddenly went out.
Blackness swallowed the room.
Someone outside screamed.
Officer Harris drew his flashlight.
And from upstairs came a single sound.
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A heavy metallic click.
Like someone had just opened a lock.
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