Continue the Story!
Chapter 1
With her heart still pounding in her ears, Abigail pressed her back against the locked front door and squeezed her eyes shut. Counting slowly down from one hundred, she felt approximately no better by the time she reached one, but she was no longer hyperventilating, which had to be a win. She pulled out her phone and brought up Byron’s contact page, her thumb hovering over the call button. She had to tell him the gun was missing; he’d know what to do… but he had also run out of there as if he had seen a ghost, taking one of the surveillance photos from her dad’s safe with him.
Abigail felt her stomach twist around the last ten minutes of her life, and a sob threatened to escape from her throat. Swiping away from Byron’s contact, she selected Cleo instead. It only rang twice, but even that felt like it took forever.
“Hello—”
“Cleo?” Abigail said, cutting her off, “Where are you? Are you alright?”
“Uh, yeah?” her friend said, “I’m just leaving work. What’s up?”
“Byron was here, and he needed to see the office to assess the repair situation and… I kind of panicked and told him about… you know, what we found?”
Abigail sped through what had just happened—admitting to Byron there was more to the story than she had told him before, telling him about the paperwork and the photos, him seeing the photographs and freaking out. She paused, hesitant to say what had happened next over the phone even though simply acknowledging the thought made her feel paranoid and ridiculous.
“Wait,” Cleo interrupted, “he stole one of the photos?
“Yes,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “but that’s not all… it’s gone, Cleo…”
“The photo?” Cleo asked, clearly confused.
“No. Well, yes, but… the other thing… the thing that freaked me out when we found it?”
She could almost hear the cogs turning in Cleo’s head and suddenly clicking.
“Look, I’m coming over,” she said abruptly, “don’t panic, just stay where you are.”
Abigail let out a wry laugh. Her legs were jelly even as she sat on the floor, and her nauseous stomach clenched at the mere thought of going back into the office to stare at the empty safe. She mentally ran through every entry point of the house, she was sure she had locked them all after she’d used them. Some—like the side back door—she hadn’t even used. All were secure, she was sure of it; Byron had assured her that he did a security check every month as part of his caretaker and maintenance contract and had shown her the checks he did on that first day when he gave her the tour of the house.
Though his reassurances were retrospectively less effective, and the whole of the upstairs of the house loomed, unexplored above her. What if the person who’d broken in hadn’t left? The thought sent a wave of anxiety through her, undoing all the calming breaths she had been taking.
‘What if they are still here?’ she thought wildly.
With considerable effort, she held her breath and silently raised her hand above her head to unlock the front door. Gripping the handle so hard that it hurt, she pulled herself upright without turning her back on the hallway.
Stepping out as quietly as she could, Abigail moved to the side of the house and perched on the bench that sat against the fence. If someone was going to come out of the front door, they wouldn’t be able to see her. Her hand flew up to her forehead as she realized—all this time someone could have been there, and she would never have seen them!
Abigail glared at the bench and vowed that as soon as she knew the house was empty, she would be moving the bench and filling in the spot with something spiked. She glanced down at her phone and saw her call log; Hannah’s name glowed. Should she call her daughter back, right now? If she waited, then Hannah might think something’s wrong; alternatively, if she called her back and sounded terrified, her bright and clever kid might also figure it out. She opened their direct chat; Hannah had called her directly rather than through the group chat shared by the twins and their mom.
From Mom: Hey sweetie, the signal is terrible right now—I could barely hear you. Are you okay?
At least if she split the difference, she would know if something was wrong but also avoided having to modulate her voice into a semblance of calm.
From Hannah: Hey Mom. No, everything isn’t fine! Sid is being the worst, she’s told Dad that I’m bullying her! All because I don’t want her hanging around me and my friends ALL THE TIME! Can you PLS talk to her!?!? I can’t deal with her level of annoyingness this much of the time. And tell Dad it’s HER not ME.
Despite the spike in anxiety the first line caused, the routine drama of having a pair of pre-teen twins was remarkably calming in the moment, and Abigail drew her attention entirely into her phone. By the time Cleo arrived, the drama was still alive and well, but at least Hannah had told her the rest of the background story and explained why she was so annoyed at her sister.
“Abby?” Cleo called from her car, “are you alright?”
Abigail quickly finished off the text, suggesting they all have a proper talk about it soon, and rose to greet Cleo.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice wavering, “I think so, I mean, not really but… technically speaking, yes.”
Cleo blinked a few times as she stopped in front of Abigail, “Wow, how convincing. I’m convinced. One tip, though, for future believability, try not to sound like you’re going to burst into tears when you say it.”
Abigail stifled a laugh and opened her arms for a hug, which Cleo happily provided.
“Now,” Cleo said, squeezing Abigail tightly, “tell me what the hell is going on.”
As Abigail recounted the exchange with Byron, from his reaction to the information about the gun to his racing out of the house, she could feel Cleo wanting to go inside.
“…and I freaked myself out, and now I’m kind of afraid to go in.”
“Afraid?”
Abigail nodded, “because what if they’re still in there? Except now they have a gun…”