The house was not peaceful.
It was unnaturally silent.
There was no music playing from the kitchen, even though Lauren always listened to something while she cooked.
The television was off.
I heard no dishwasher, washing machine, or footsteps upstairs.
Lauren had stayed with Bennett during my trip.
She was thirty-two, dependable, and more protective of my son than almost anyone I knew. She had rearranged her work schedule without complaint when I asked her to help.
I called her name.
“Lauren?”
There was no answer.
The silence felt wrong.
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
Bennett remained so close that his shoulder pressed against my side.
“Maybe she’s in the kitchen,” I said, mostly to reassure myself.
The kitchen was empty.
Two cups rested beside the sink. A tea bag floated in one, while the other appeared untouched.
I checked the backyard.
No one was there.
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Lauren’s car remained outside.
My pulse began racing.
When I returned to the hallway, Bennett stood exactly where I had left him.
“Bennett,” I asked gently, “where’s Aunt Lauren?”
He stared at the floor.
“I… I don’t know.”
That made no sense.
Lauren would never leave him alone.
I crouched in front of him and rested my hands lightly on his shoulders.
His lower lip trembled.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she go outside?”
He shook his head.
“Did someone come to the house?”
His eyes moved toward the hallway again.
Then I noticed a narrow line of light beneath his bedroom door.
Bennett was careful about switching lights off because Lauren had convinced him every bulb left burning cost me a fortune.
Then I heard another sound.
It was so faint I nearly missed it.
A low whisper.
Then the sound of something heavy scraping across the floor.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Bennett’s small fingers continued trembling.
“Mom… please.”
“They said you’d be angry if you found out.”
My heart hammered.
They.
