Chapter 2 - The Door Left Ajar
David didn't move immediately; he assumed it was the house settling, or perhaps the neighborhood stray cat brushing past the screen door. But the cold draft that sliced across the dining room was not a draft from an old window frame. It was a direct gust of outdoor wind, smelling sharply of wet asphalt, engine grease, and dead leaves.
""Elena, did you lock the front latch?"" David asked, his voice deliberately light so as not to startle Maya.
Maya was still staring at the candle, her fingers flexing against David’s chest, but the sudden chill made her tiny shoulders shudder. She turned her head slightly, her delicate brow furrowing as she caught the change in her father’s posture. A baby feels tension through the pulse against her ribs before she ever understands fear.
Elena turned toward the arched entry connecting the dining room to the front foyer. Her smile evaporated. ""I thought you did when you brought the cake inside from the bakery.""
The house was completely silent now, save for the low hiss of the candle flame. The hallway was swallowed in shadow. Outside, the streetlamp flickered once, casting long, fractured geometric shapes through the stained-glass panel above the door.
""Stay here,"" David said quietly. He unbuckled the top clip of the baby carrier, intending to hand Maya over to Elena.
""No, don't,"" Elena said, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper as she gripped his forearm. Her eyes were fixed on the polished hardwood floor near the entrance.
May you like
David followed her gaze. There, directly on the threshold between the entryway rug and the wooden floorboards, lay a dark, wet footprint. It was large, treaded like a heavy combat boot, and the water was still seeping into the grain.
Before David could speak, a metallic click echoed from the dark stairwell—the distinct, mechanical sound of a lighter snapping open.
