Chapter 6 - Nobody Leaves
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Daniel reached out and firmly closed the heavy front door behind him, the click of the deadbolt sounding like a gunshot in the silent house. The investigators and agents filed into the foyer, instantly taking up tactical positions that blocked every possible exit.
Daniel stood in the center of the hallway. He didn't yell. He didn't scream.
In a voice so quiet, so cold, and so utterly devoid of emotion that it made even the hairs on my arms stand up, he spoke six words that drained the life out of his family.
"Nobody leaves this house tonight."
Nobody breathed.
Marcus stepped backward so quickly his heel caught the edge of the Persian rug, and he nearly tumbled to the floor. He caught himself against a side table, knocking over a framed photograph, the glass shattering. Nobody even blinked at the noise.
Tessa looked as though she was about to vomit. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, her designer cardigan suddenly offering no protection against the freezing reality of the room.
And Gloria stood completely frozen beneath the expensive chandelier she had repeatedly, bitterly claimed should have belonged to her instead of me.
Daniel took two slow steps forward, his eyes locking back onto my face. He reached out with a trembling, calloused hand and gently brushed his thumb just millimeters away from the swelling bruise on my cheek.
His jaw tightened so hard I thought his teeth might crack.
"Who touched her?" Daniel demanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
Silence. Absolute, terrifying, dead silence.
Marcus, desperate to break the tension and save his own skin, forced a high-pitched, incredibly fake laugh.
"Danny, come on, man," Marcus stammered, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "She's exaggerating. You know how Claire gets. She tripped and hit the wall. We were just trying to help her up—"
Daniel didn't even look at him.
"Answer me," Daniel commanded, the volume of his voice rising just enough to shake the walls.
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The Army CID investigators exchanged knowing glances. One of the FBI agents quietly moved to the front window and pulled the heavy curtains shut, sealing us off from the outside world.
Detective Harris stepped forward, carrying a massive, incredibly thick manila folder. He set it down heavily on my solid oak dining room table with a definitive thwack.
