Chapter 5

The social worker’s name was Angela Reyes. She arrived at eight forty-five exactly, just like Kyle said.

I heard her knock. I heard Kyle’s footsteps. I heard the door open and the polite introductions. Then they walked through the house. I could track them by the floorboards. The kitchen. The dining room. Eli’s room.

“He’s non-verbal,” Kyle said. “Cerebral palsy. He requires total care. Hannah’s been his primary caregiver, but lately she’s been struggling.”

Angela’s voice was calm. Professional. “And you’re concerned about the baby?”

“I’m concerned about all of it,” Kyle said. “She’s been forgetting things. Leaving the pantry door open. Letting Eli’s trays go untouched. I’m worried she’s depressed. Or worse.”

I pressed my hands against the pantry door. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell Angela that the trays were untouched because Kyle was starving Eli. That the pantry shelves were empty because Kyle was stealing. That the only thing depressed about me was my marriage.

But I couldn’t make a sound. If I did, Kyle would say I was hysterical. He’d say I was a danger to myself and the baby. He’d win.

“I’d like to speak with Hannah,” Angela said.

“She’s resting,” Kyle said. “The baby’s due any day. I think it’s best if we let her sleep.”

“I really should see her.”

“Of course. But maybe tomorrow? When the roads are clearer. I can bring her to your office.”

Another pause. Then Angela sighed. “All right. But I’m going to schedule a follow-up. And I want her to see a doctor. Prenatal care is important, especially at this stage.”

“Absolutely,” Kyle said. “I’ll make the appointment myself.”

The door closed. The car drove away.

Kyle came back to the pantry. This time, he opened the door.

He stood in the doorway with a flashlight. The beam hit my face. I squinted.

“You look terrible,” he said.

“You’re a monster.”

He smiled. “I’m a survivor. There’s a difference.”

He stepped closer. I backed up against the shelves. He looked around the pantry. His eyes landed on the shelf where Eli’s tablet was hidden.

“What’s that?”

He reached past me. I grabbed his arm. He shoved me aside. My hip hit the shelf. Pain shot down my leg.

He pulled the tablet out. The screen was still on. The emergency icon glowed.

“You used his tablet,” he said. “You sent a message.”

“Doreen didn’t believe it.”

“No. She didn’t.” He tucked the tablet under his arm. “But I can’t have you sending any more.”

He turned to leave. I grabbed the bell rope. I pulled it with everything I had.

The bell rang. Again and again. Kyle dropped the tablet and lunged for me. I kicked him in the knee. He stumbled.

From the other side of the wall, I heard a crash. Then a beep. Then the sound of Eli’s wheelchair motor whining.

Kyle spun toward the noise.

Eli had driven his wheelchair into the wall. He was trying to get to the pantry. Trying to help me.

Kyle cursed and ran into Eli’s room. I heard him yell. I heard Eli’s tablet clatter to the floor.

I crawled through the pantry door, through the hall, into the kitchen. I grabbed the landline. It was dead.

But the bell was still ringing. And this time, someone was coming.