Chapter 2
The driveway was a long, sweeping arc of crushed white gravel that led up to Laura and Victor’s sprawling suburban estate. It was the kind of house that tried too hard—too many columns, too much perfectly manicured lawn, and a massive oak door that screamed of new money. I parked my heavy-duty truck right behind Victor’s pristine German sedan, ignoring the unspoken rule that guests were supposed to park on the street. I killed the engine and stepped out, the crunch of gravel loud in the quiet afternoon air.
My eyes immediately began scanning the property. It was a habit born from decades in the security business; you never look at the front door first. You look at the perimeter. You look at the anomalies.
The first anomaly was Emily’s car. It was parked haphazardly beside the three-car garage. Emily was meticulous about her little hatchback. She washed it weekly and always parked it perfectly straight. Right now, the front left tire was resting in the grass, and thick, dried mud caked the wheel wells and the lower bumper. It hadn't rained in this county for a week. She hadn't been driving on paved roads.
I walked closer to the house, my gaze sweeping over the ground-floor windows. The study window was cracked open, presumably to let in the autumn breeze. Through the expensive sheer curtains, I saw Victor’s massive mahogany desk. My stomach tightened. Sitting right there, on top of a stack of manila folders, was a small, dark blue booklet.
May you like
Her passport.
If Emily had gone traveling with friends, as the strange text implied, why was her passport sitting on Victor’s desk? And why was her car parked like it had been abandoned in a rush? The cold knot in my stomach twisted tighter, transforming into a sharp, focused anger. I walked up the wide brick steps and pressed the doorbell, the chime echoing deep within the hollow house.
