I had resigned myself to the oppressive quiet of the house when I stumbled upon the card. It was late at night, and Karen had gone to bed after a tense dinner where she barely spoke. I wandered through the house aimlessly, trying to steady my spiraling thoughts. Something had to give—I couldn't live this way much longer.
In desperation, I returned to David's notebooks. I knew Karen might catch me if she woke up, but the risk was worth it. I opened the last journal I had skimmed, hoping for another clue, and that's when I saw it. A slim rectangle of cardstock slipped free from the binding and fluttered to the floor.
I picked it up, my pulse quickening. The card read:
Detective William Hayes
Private Investigator
"Justice Through Persistence"
And below that, a phone number.
I stared at it for a long time, the words on the card blurring as my mind raced. Who was this man? Why would David have his information hidden in his journal? Could this be the lifeline I needed?
---
The Call for Help
My hands trembled as I dialed the number. It was nearly midnight, but I didn't care. The phone rang twice before a gravelly voice answered.
"Hayes."
"Detective Hayes?" I whispered, glancing nervously at the hallway. I had locked the bathroom door, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Karen was just outside, listening.
"Who's asking?" His voice was brusque, but not unkind.
"My name is Alex… Alex Carter. I think you investigated my stepfather's disappearance. David Carter?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
"I remember the case," he said finally, his tone shifting to something more cautious. "What's this about?"
"He didn't just disappear," I said, my voice breaking. "My mom… she's hiding something. I found his journals, his photographs. There's a hidden room in our house. I think… I think something terrible happened to him."
Hayes didn't respond immediately, but I could hear him shuffling papers in the background. "You're telling me there's new evidence?"
"Yes. But I need help. She's watching me all the time. I don't know what to do."
Another pause, then a soft sigh. "Listen, kid. I worked David's case for months, and I always suspected foul play, but I couldn't prove it. If you've got evidence, I'm not letting this slide. I'll help you, but we've got to be smart about it. If she's as dangerous as you say, we'll need a plan."
A wave of relief washed over me. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I wasn't completely alone.
"What do I do?" I asked, clutching the phone tightly.
"First, stay calm," Hayes said. "You need to act normal. Don't let her know you've contacted me. Gather as much evidence as you can—photographs, recordings, anything that proves your story. And Alex… be careful. If she's already threatened you, don't underestimate her."
His words sent a chill through me. I thanked him and ended the call, my mind racing. I had taken the first step, but the road ahead felt impossibly long.
---
Back in the Lion's Den
I slipped back into my bedroom, my heart pounding. Karen's door was still shut, and the house was quiet, but I couldn't shake the feeling that she knew something had shifted.
The next day, she was different. She hovered over me constantly, asking strange, probing questions.
"Where were you last night?" she asked as we sat down to breakfast.
"In my room," I lied, keeping my tone casual.
Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more. The rest of the day passed in uneasy silence, with Karen watching me like a hawk.
That night, as she slept, I began my search for evidence. I returned to the basement, armed with my phone's camera. I photographed everything—the hidden chamber, the photos of David, the notebooks filled with his desperate words.
But the most chilling discovery came when I moved one of the boxes in the corner. Beneath it was a small, locked trunk. I didn't have the key, but the lock was old and rusted. Using a screwdriver from a nearby toolbox, I pried it open.
Inside, I found a stack of letters, all addressed to me.
Alex,
If you're reading this, then I didn't make it out. Your mother… she's not who you think she is. She's dangerous, Alex. Please, get away from her before it's too late.
The letters detailed Karen's descent into paranoia and control, her obsessive need to keep David close. He described how she manipulated him, isolated him, and ultimately threatened him when he tried to leave.
By the time I returned to my room, the sun was beginning to rise. I hid the letters beneath my mattress, my mind racing with questions. Who was Karen, really? What had driven her to this madness? And most importantly—how would I escape her grasp?