Still nothing.
My hands trembled so badly that I nearly dropped the phone.
Daniel spoke firmly.
“Call the police.”
“I am.”
Finally, Lucy answered.
“Dad?”
Relief rushed through me.
“Lucy, where are you?”
“At your house.”
“Is Sophie there?”
“She’s upstairs.”
“Lock every door.”
“Why?”
“Do it now.”
My voice frightened her.
Hearing that fear made me feel terrible, but I couldn’t afford to soften the instructions.
“Dad?”
“Listen carefully. Go upstairs. Take Sophie. Lock yourselves in my bedroom. Don’t answer the door for anyone except uniformed officers. Understand?”
Lucy began crying.
“Dad, what’s happening?”
“Nothing is going to happen.”
I needed her to trust me.
I also needed to believe what I’d just promised.
Police arrived before our vehicle.
Marcus wasn’t there.
There were no damaged doors, broken windows, or indications that anybody had entered the house.
Investigators believed the photograph had been taken from the sidewalk only minutes before it was sent.
