Chapter 1 — “Don’t Let Them Know I Called You”
The phone rang at 2:17 in the morning.
I almost ignored it.
Not because I didn't care.
Because my mother never called that late.
Never.
My name is Daniel Carter, and I had lived nearly four hours away from my hometown for the past six years.
My mother, Evelyn, was seventy-two.
She lived alone in the small house where my sister and I had grown up.
She was stubborn, independent, and almost offensively calm.
When my father died, she had handled the funeral herself.
When a storm destroyed half her roof, she spent the morning making coffee for the repair crew.
When she fell and broke her ankle three years ago, she called me only after she'd already gotten home from the hospital.
So when I saw MOM flashing across my screen at 2:17 a.m., I knew something was terribly wrong.
I answered immediately.
"Mom?"
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Then breathing.
Shallow.
Uneven.
"Mom, can you hear me?"
Her voice finally came through.
"Daniel?"
"I'm here."
"Don't let them know I called you."
I sat upright.
"Who?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom, who is there?"
"I can't talk loudly."
"Are you hurt?"
A pause.
Then:
"Yes."
Everything inside me went cold.
"Where?"
"My kitchen."
"What happened?"
"I tried to stop them."
"Stop who?"
Her breathing became unsteady.
"Rachel."
I froze.
Rachel was my younger brother Evan's wife.
My sister-in-law.
"Rachel hurt you?"
"She wanted me to sign something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Where's Evan?"
Another silence.
Then my mother whispered:
"He's here."
My stomach dropped.
"Is he helping you?"
"No."
Those two words were quieter than everything else.
But they hurt more.
"What did he do?"
"He told them I was confused."
I stood and started pulling on my clothes.
"Mom, listen to me. Are you somewhere safe?"
"I'm in the downstairs bathroom."
"Lock the door."
"It's locked."