Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Garden
The local police cruisers arrived thirty minutes after the transport officers left.
Red and blue flashing lights painted the wet pine trees in rhythmic pulses of blood and ice.
Two K-9 units worked the perimeter of the Vance estate until nearly dawn.
The German Shepherds lost Elliot’s scent at the edge of Highway 9.
The lead detective, a tired man named Hayes with tobacco stains on his fingers, sighed.
“He either caught a ride or he had a secondary stash of clothes and cash, Brennan.”
“He doesn’t have money,” Brennan insisted, his coat soaked through to the lining.
“His accounts were frozen two weeks ago when he got caught forging my checks.”
Detective Hayes tipped his damp hat back and looked Brennan dead in the eye.
“Kids like Elliot always have another angle, Brennan. You should know that by now.”
The police left two patrol cars stationed at the bottom of the long driveway.
They promised regular patrols, but the comfort felt paper-thin and brittle.
By sunrise, the freezing sleet had stopped, leaving a brittle crust of ice on the lawn.
The manor felt colder inside than the winter air blowing through the trees.
Sarah had locked herself in the master bedroom with June, refusing to come down.
Brennan had spent the remainder of the night cleaning the mud from the upstairs floor.
He had pulled Clara’s silver scissors out of the wood with a sharp jerk.
The scratch on the nightstand remained, a permanent scar on the polished oak.
Brennan walked down to the kitchen, his joints aching with bone-deep fatigue.
He poured a cup of lukewarm, bitter coffee from yesterday’s brew.
He didn't bother heating it up.
The silence in the kitchen was broken only by the rhythmic hum of the freezer.
Then his phone buzzed violently against the granite counter.
The screen displayed an unknown caller from an untraceable VoIP number.
Brennan’s hand hovered over the glass before pressing the green icon.
He brought the phone to his ear and did not say a word.
The line was filled with the rhythmic sound of steady, calm breathing.
Then came the faint sound of church bells tolling in the background.
“Did you check the safe in the basement, Dad?” Elliot’s voice was smooth as velvet.
The word ‘Dad’ felt like a serrated knife dragged across Brennan’s skin.
“Elliot, turn yourself in right now,” Brennan said, his voice flat and low.
“The police have your description across the entire county. You have nowhere to go.”
A dry, hollow chuckle drifted through the tiny phone speaker.
“You always thought the law could fix everything, didn’t you, Brennan?”
“Just like you thought those expensive doctors would fix Mom’s tumors.”
“Do not speak about your mother,” Brennan warned, his jaw aching from tension.
“Why not? Because she knew what you were before she died?”
“You killed her spirit long before her body quit on her, Brennan.”
“And now you think you can replace her with that stupid girl and her crying brat?”
“Elliot, listen to me—” Brennan began, but the boy cut him off sharply.
“Look out the dining room window, Brennan.”
The line went dead with a soft click.
Brennan’s blood turned instantly to ice water inside his veins.
He dropped the phone onto the counter and ran toward the formal dining room.
The heavy velvet drapes were half-drawn against the morning frost.
Brennan yanked the fabric aside with trembling, furious hands.
Beyond the French doors, the formal stone patio stretched out toward the hedge maze.
In the center of the flagstones, Clara’s favorite marble birdbath stood frosted over.
Perched directly on top of the birdbath was a small, familiar object.
It was June’s favorite plush yellow duck, which had gone missing three days ago.
The toy had been decapitated with clean, surgical precision.
Its small yellow head was impaled on the decorative iron spike of the garden fence.
Its stuffed body lay floating in the frozen water of the birdbath.
Elliot had not fled to the highway last night.
He had never left the grounds of the manor at all.
He was watching the house from somewhere inside the overgrown estate.
He had been out there in the freezing dark, watching Brennan clean the nursery.
May you like
Brennan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in cold primal terror.
He turned on his heel and bolted up the stairs toward his wife and daughter.
