Chapter 1 - I LET THEM IN
The first thing Mark Dawson noticed was the silence.
His daughter should have been home.
Emily’s backpack was beside the entryway bench, one sneaker was near the stairs, and her music should have been leaking through the walls the way it did every afternoon.
Instead, Mark heard nothing.
He pushed the front door wider with his shoulder, balancing the white bakery box in both hands.
“Emily?”
The cake fell.
The box hit the hardwood sideways.
Blue frosting smeared across the plastic window.
Emily was curled against the base of the sofa.
An armchair had been knocked onto its side. Two cushions lay across the room. A lamp leaned crooked against the wall.
Her light hoodie was torn at one sleeve.
There were scratches along her cheek and bruising beginning beneath one eye.
“Emily!”
Mark crossed the room so quickly his knee struck the overturned chair.
She moved when he touched her.
That was all he needed for one second.
Then fear returned.
“Look at me.”
Her eyelids fluttered.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
He called 911 with one hand while keeping the other beneath her shoulder.
Emily tried to say something.
Nothing came out.
Her school backpack lay inches from her fingers.
Attached to the side was the personal alarm Mark had bought her the previous Christmas after a girl from her school had been followed home.
The little black device was still there.
That bothered him before he understood why.
Within minutes the room filled with paramedics and police.
Detective Harris arrived while Emily was being examined.
Thirty-nine, dark jacket, controlled voice.
He studied the overturned furniture.
“Anything obviously missing?”
Mark looked around.
Television still mounted.
Laptop on the side table.
His wallet in the ceramic tray.
Emily’s phone on the carpet.
“No.”
“Could be interrupted.”
Harris stepped toward the front door.
“No damage to the frame.”
One officer checked the lock.
“No pry marks.”
Harris looked back at Emily.
Mark’s eyes returned to the backpack.
An evidence technician reached for it.
“Wait.”
Mark pulled it toward him.
The personal alarm’s casing was intact.
No cracks.
No impact damage.
He opened the protective cover.
“It wasn't broken.”
Harris crouched.
Mark turned the device over.
The switch on the back was set to OFF.
Someone had not smashed it during the attack.
Someone had deliberately turned it off first.
Mark looked at Emily.
“Sweetheart.”
Her eyes opened.
“Did you turn this off?”
She stared at the alarm.
Then nodded.
Mark felt something cold settle inside him.
“Why?”
Emily looked toward the open door.
Harris saw the reaction.
“Emily, did you know whoever came inside?”
She grabbed Mark’s shirt.
Her fingers trembled.
Harris lowered his voice.
“We're not asking you to tell the whole story right now.”
Emily swallowed.
“They didn't break in.”
Mark stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I opened it.”
“You opened the door?”
She nodded.
Mark looked at Harris.
The detective’s expression had changed completely.
“Who did you expect to see?”
Emily’s grip tightened.
“Aunt Claire.”
Mark stared at his daughter.
Claire was his older sister.
Emily had spent weekends at her house.
Claire had attended every birthday dinner since Emily was born.
Mark forced himself to ask the next question.
“Was Claire here?”
Emily looked frightened again.
“Yes.”
The word nearly emptied the room of sound.
“She wasn't alone.”
Harris pulled a chair closer.
“Who was with her?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Mr. Voss.”
Mark knew that name too.
Grant Voss had been the Dawson family attorney for almost twenty years.
He had handled Mark’s mother’s estate.
His father’s company contracts.
Julia’s affairs after she died.
Mark looked at the disturbed living room again.
This was no burglary.
It was family.
Harris asked, “Why did you let them in?”
Emily's eyes opened.
“They said Mom left something for me.”
Julia had been dead six years.
Mark felt his pulse jump.
“What something?”
Emily slowly turned toward her backpack.
Her voice became even smaller.
“A key.”
Harris followed her gaze.
“What key?”
May you like
Emily whispered:
“The one they couldn't find.”
