Chapter 3 - The Escape and the First Confession
I didn't look back at Jason. Adrenaline surged through my veins, dulling the pain in my torn palm and the burning in my lungs as I practically threw myself and Emily into the backseat of my SUV. I locked all the doors with a frantic jab of the dashboard button, killing the automatic door locks from letting anyone near us.
Emily was shaking so hard her teeth clicked together. I tore off my jacket and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders, adjusting the air conditioning vents away from her face.
"Drink this, sweetheart," I pleaded, grabbing a fresh bottle of water from the center console and twisting the cap off. My hands shook so badly I spilled half of it on her lap, but she managed to take a few desperate sips, coughing as the cool liquid hit her parched throat.
"Daddy... they're going to come after us," she whimpered, her wide, terrified eyes darting toward the rearview mirror. "Jason said... if I told anyone... he said he would put me in the deep well in the woods."
My blood turned to ice water. "Nobody is ever putting you anywhere again, Em. I swear on my life, they are never laying a hand on you again."
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen was cracked from the frantic dive through the fence, but the display lit up. I bypassed the emergency services and dialed direct.
"Detective Miller," a sharp, professional voice answered on the third ring.
"Miller, it's Michael Carter. Emily's father," I blurted out, my words tumbling over each other. "I found her. I found my daughter. She was locked in an outdoor dog cage behind her mother's house. But that's not all. Jason—Sarah's husband—has been dumping black contractor bags into their backyard swimming pool. The water is completely green. Mrs. Harris next door saw him carrying them last night. We need a warrant, and we need backup here immediately. They're still inside the house."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Mr. Carter, listen to me very carefully. Are you and your daughter safe right now?"
"We're in my car, parked two houses down on Elm Street."
"Stay right there. Do not approach the house, do not engage with Sarah or Jason, and do not leave. I am dispatching two patrol units and a tactical unit to your location right now. I'm tying up the judge for an emergency search warrant as we speak. Hang tight, Michael."
The line went dead with a click.
I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat and turned around to check on Emily. She had curled back into a tight ball on the back seat, her thumb jammed deep into her mouth—a habit she had outgrown three years ago. I reached through the gap in the front seats and gently pulled her hand away, holding her tiny, cold fingers in my palm.
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"They're coming, Em," I whispered softly. "The police are on their way. The bad people are going to jail."
Suddenly, the front door of Sarah's house banged open again. Jason marched down the driveway, no longer holding the fireplace poker, but sliding something dark and heavy into the waistband of his jeans. He climbed into his black pickup truck parked in the driveway, the engine roaring to life with a deafening, modified exhaust roar.
