Chapter 2 - The Man at the Back Door
I didn't need Emily to tell me who had opened the door.
Julian stood on the patio.
For once, there was no polite smile.
No pleasant neighbor.
No carefully controlled voice.
He simply stared at me holding Emily beside the open cage.
For several long seconds, nobody moved.
Then Julian looked down.
At the broken padlock.
His jaw tightened.
“What are you doing here?”
I pulled Emily behind me.
“What am I doing here?”
“Daniel.”
“You locked my daughter in a cage.”
His eyes flicked toward Emily.
“She was being punished.”
The casualness of the statement stunned me.
“Punished?”
“She has behavioral problems.”
Emily pressed against my back.
I felt her trembling.
I took out my phone.
Julian's eyes narrowed.
“Put that away.”
“No.”
“This is private family business.”
“She is my family.”
“You don't live here.”
“I don't have to live here to know children don't belong in cages.”
Julian stepped forward.
I raised my phone.
“I've already called the police.”
That was partly a bluff.
Mrs. Harris knew I intended to.
Whether she had called yet, I didn't know.
Julian stopped.
Something shifted behind his eyes.
He began thinking.
Calculating.
Then he smiled.
The change frightened me.
“Daniel, you're upset. I understand.”
“Stay away from us.”
“Elena can explain everything.”
“Where is Elena?”
Silence.
I noticed it immediately.
Emily pressed closer.
“Where is her mother?”
Julian glanced at the house.
“She's resting.”
“Get her.”
“Daniel—”
“Get Elena.”
He didn't move.
Behind me, the pool pump made a weak rattling sound.
Water shifted.
One of the black bags moved beneath the surface.
Emily made a tiny sound.
I turned toward her.
She shook her head violently.
“Don't.”
“What are those?”
“I don't know.”
Julian answered too quickly.
“Old pool equipment.”
I looked at him.
“In garbage bags?”
“The pump broke.”
His explanation made no sense.
Then, somewhere beyond the fence, I heard sirens.
Julian heard them too.
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
He turned toward the house.
“Don't move,” I said.
He ignored me.
He reached the back door.
Then ran inside.
“Dad!”
“It's okay.”
I didn't chase him.
Not with Emily there.
I lifted her into my arms and carried her toward the side gate.
It was locked from inside.
I kicked it twice.
The wood shook but held.
Sirens grew louder.
“Police!” I shouted. “Backyard!”
A moment later someone began pounding on the front door.
Then I heard Mrs. Harris yelling from her yard.
“They're behind the house!”
Two officers climbed the same lower fence I had used.
The first took one look at Emily, the cage, and my face and immediately reached for his radio.
“What happened?”
“My daughter was locked inside that.”
The officer stared at the cage.
“For how long?”
“I don't know.”
Emily buried her face against my shoulder.
“Where are the homeowners?”
“Julian went inside. Her mother should be inside too.”
The officers exchanged a look.
One stayed with us.
The other moved toward the house.
“Sir, I'm going to need you to stay here.”
“Fine.”
“Is she injured?”
“I don't know.”
An ambulance arrived minutes later.
Paramedics examined Emily while police entered the house.
I stayed beside her.
She refused to let go of my hand.
A paramedic named Claire crouched in front of her.
“Emily, can you tell me when you last ate?”
Emily looked at me first.
“It's okay,” I said.
“Yesterday.”
“What did you eat?”
“Crackers.”
Claire's expression remained professional, but I saw anger pass through her eyes.
“Did someone give you water?”
Emily nodded.
“Who?”
“My mom.”
That was the first time she mentioned Elena.
“Where is Mom now?” I asked.
Emily's gaze dropped.
“I don't know.”
A police officer emerged from the house.
Then another.
No Julian.
No Elena.
“House is empty,” one officer said.
“What?”
“Back door was open. Front door locked. Nobody inside.”
“He just went in there.”
“There's an attached garage.”
We walked around the side.
Julian's SUV still sat in front.
But Elena's sedan was gone.
“Was her car here when you arrived?”
I tried to remember.
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“When did you last see Elena?” the officer asked Emily.
She didn't answer.
“Emily?”
Her eyes went toward the pool.
Again.
I followed the look.
“What's in those bags?”
The officer stared at the water.
“Sir, stay back.”
Within thirty minutes the backyard had changed.
Crime-scene tape stretched across the fence.
Detectives arrived.
A technician photographed the cage.
Two firefighters prepared to retrieve the bags.
Emily sat wrapped in an emergency blanket beside the ambulance.
I stayed with her.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are you mad?”
My heart broke.
“At you?”
She nodded.
“No.”
“Even if I did something bad?”
“You didn't do anything that deserves this.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You don't know.”
“Then tell me.”
She looked at the officers.
Then the pool.
Then the house.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because he'll hurt Mom.”
The words landed like stones.
“Julian?”
Emily covered her mouth.
Like saying his name had broken a rule.
I wrapped my arm around her.
“You're safe.”
She shook her head.
“You don't understand.”
Across the yard, the first black bag came out of the pool.
Water poured from it.
It was heavy enough that two firefighters had to lift it onto the concrete.
Nobody opened it immediately.
A detective photographed it.
Then they retrieved another.
Then another.
Three bags.
All weighted.
A detective approached me.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“I'm Detective Morales.”
He lowered his voice.
“Do you know whether Ms. Carter—your ex-wife—was planning to travel?”
“No.”
“Did she mention leaving town?”
“No.”
He looked toward the pool.
“When did you last speak to her?”
“Thursday morning. Text message.”
“What did she say?”
“Just that Emily's school paperwork was handled.”
“Nothing unusual?”
“No.”
“Do you still have the messages?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“We'll need them.”
Then something happened near the bags.
One of the technicians called Morales over.
The detective walked away.
I couldn't hear the conversation.
But I saw Morales's posture change.
He crouched.
The technician had cut open one of the bags.
Inside were clothes.
Women's clothing.
A purse.
Shoes.
Documents.
The second bag contained more personal belongings.
The third held smashed electronics.
Phones.
A laptop.
Then a technician pulled a familiar object from the plastic.
A red leather wallet.
I recognized it instantly.
Elena had carried it for years.
My throat closed.
Detective Morales returned.
“Mr. Carter, we're going to need to speak privately.”
“That's Elena's wallet.”
He didn't respond.
“Where is she?”
“We don't know.”
Emily began crying silently.
I sat beside her.
“Sweetheart?”
“I told her not to.”
“Told her not to what?”
She looked at me.
For the first time since I found her, she seemed ready to speak.
“Mom was going to take me away.”
“Away from Julian?”
She nodded.
“She packed things.”
“When?”
“Friday.”
“What happened?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“They fought.”
“About what?”
“Me.”
Her voice cracked.
“Mom told him she knew what he'd been doing.”
Detective Morales crouched nearby.
“What had he been doing, Emily?”
She stared at the ground.
“Following people.”
“Who?”
“Dad.”
I stopped breathing.
“Me?”
Emily nodded.
“And Mom.”
The detective's expression sharpened.
“Did Julian threaten either of them?”
Emily whispered, “He said if Mom left, he would make sure nobody ever found her.”
Silence fell around us.
Then an officer came running from inside the house.
“Detective!”
Morales stood.
“What?”
“We found something in the basement.”
Emily immediately grabbed my arm.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“What is it?”
She started shaking harder.
“No, no, no.”
The officer glanced toward her, then lowered his voice.
But not enough.
“There’s another cage downstairs.”
Emily began sobbing.
May you like
And Detective Morales asked the question none of us wanted answered.
“Who else was he keeping here?”
