Chapter 7 - The Return to the Lion's Den
The drive back to my neighborhood was a blur of streetlights,
empty roads,
and overwhelming dread.
I drove perfectly on the speed limit,
my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached,
while Detective Vance's dark sedan followed a few car lengths behind me.
The suburban streets looked incredibly peaceful,
the manicured lawns covered in a thin layer of morning dew,
the large houses sleeping quietly under the fading stars.
It looked like a postcard,
a perfect illustration of the American dream,
but I knew the truth now.
Behind those beautiful wooden doors,
monsters were drinking coffee,
reading the morning paper,
and destroying lives with quiet,
calculated precision.
I pulled into my driveway,
my headlights sweeping across the front of our large,
two-story brick house.
Every single light on the first floor was turned on.
Michael was waiting for me.
I put the car in park,
taking a deep,
shuddering breath,
trying to force the terror back down into my stomach.
Detective Vance parked on the street,
killing his engine,
but leaving his headlights on,
a silent promise that he was watching.
I opened my car door,
the cold morning air biting into my skin through my thin sweater.
I walked up the concrete path,
my footsteps echoing loudly in the absolute silence of the neighborhood.
I didn't bother using my key,
because the front door was already unlocked,
pushed slightly ajar,
as if he was inviting me inside.
I pushed the door open,
stepping into the grand foyer,
smelling the familiar scent of our expensive vanilla candles,
mixed with something harsh,
chemical,
and deeply unnatural.
Bleach.
The house smelled intensely of industrial-strength bleach.
"Michael,"
I called out,
my voice sounding small,
weak,
and entirely lacking the bravery I had felt in the hospital room.
"In the kitchen,
Sarah,"
his voice floated back,
calm,
smooth,
and perfectly modulated.
I walked down the hallway,
my legs feeling like lead,
my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
When I stepped into the kitchen,
I stopped dead in my tracks,
staring at the scene in front of me.
The kitchen was spotless.
It was cleaner than it had ever been,
the granite countertops gleaming under the bright recessed lighting,
the stainless steel sink scrubbed until it looked brand new.
Michael was sitting at the breakfast bar,
wearing the same crisp suit,
sipping a cup of black coffee from a white ceramic mug.
He looked up at me,
a slight,
almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.
"You're home early,"
he said,
taking another slow sip of his coffee.
"How is our daughter?"
"Where is it?"
I demanded,
ignoring his question,
my eyes frantically scanning the counters,
the shelves,
the glass cabinets where we kept the tea.
"Where is what,
darling?"
he asked,
feigning complete innocence,
his tone dripping with that familiar,
condescending patience.
"The tea tin,"
I yelled,
losing my composure,
rushing toward the pantry door.
"The peppermint tea you've been making for her every single night!"
I tore the pantry door open,
pushing past boxes of cereal,
cans of soup,
jars of pasta sauce,
frantically searching the top shelf where the green metal tin always sat.
It was gone.
The space was empty,
wiped clean,
smelling strongly of lemon disinfectant.
"Oh,
the tea,"
Michael said from behind me,
his chair scraping slightly against the hardwood floor as he stood up.
"I threw it away,
Sarah."
I spun around,
staring at him,
my chest heaving,
my eyes wide with absolute horror.
"You threw it away,"
I repeated,
the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
"Yes,"
he nodded,
walking slowly toward the sink,
rinsing his coffee mug with methodical precision.
"When I got home from the hospital,
I realized the expiration date on the bottom of the tin was from two years ago."
He turned off the faucet,
drying his hands on a clean towel,
looking at me with those cold,
dead eyes.
"I figured that must be what upset her sensitive stomach,
so I put it in the garbage disposal,
ground it up,
and flushed it away."
He smiled then,
a real,
genuine smile that chilled me to the absolute core of my being.
"Just trying to keep my family safe,
May you like
Sarah,"
he whispered.
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