Chapter 2 - The Hidden Voice
The sound of Julian’s voice made my skin go cold.
I dropped the floorboard back into place.
I scrambled out from under the bed.
Toby pulled his knees to his chest.
He was trembling from head to toe.
“He knows,” Toby whispered.
I grabbed Toby by the shoulders.
“Pack your shoes,” I said quickly.
“We are leaving this house right now.”
I took Toby by the hand.
We rushed down the stairs.
The front door opened before we reached the bottom.
Julian was standing in the doorway.
He was smiling.
He held a key ring in his hand.
He had never gone to work.
He had been sitting in his car outside the house.
He had been listening to us the entire time.
“Where are you two going so fast?” Julian asked calmly.
My mother rushed out of the kitchen.
Her face was pale as chalk.
“Julian, please,” she begged.
Julian didn't look at her.
He stepped inside and locked the heavy front door.
He slid the deadbolt into place.
He put the key inside his coat pocket.
“Clara is confused, Martha,” Julian said to my mother.
“She’s turning Toby against me.”
I placed myself directly in front of Toby.
“You’re spying on us!” I shouted.
“There’s a microphone under his bed!”
Julian sighed heavily.
He pulled a white envelope from his inner pocket.
“I placed monitors in this home for safety,” Julian said smoothly.
“After your father died, your mother was suicidal.”
My mother flinched backward.
“That’s not true!” I yelled.
Julian opened the white envelope.
He pulled out a stack of printed documents.
“These are medical records, Clara,” Julian said.
“They are signed by your mother’s psychiatrist.”
He held up the papers so I could see them.
My mother’s signature was at the bottom of every page.
The documents stated my mother was mentally unstable.
They granted full legal guardianship of Toby to Julian.
“If you try to take Toby from this house,” Julian said softly, “I will call the police.”
“I will have your mother committed to a state hospital.”
“And I will keep Toby legally.”
My mother fell to her knees on the hallway floor.
She buried her face in her hands.
She was sobbing silently.
“He made me sign them, Clara,” she sobbed.
“He told me he would ruin your college fund if I didn't.”
“He said he would make sure you ended up in prison.”
I stared at Julian in absolute horror.
He had planned this for months.
He had targeted our family when we were at our weakest.
My father had left us a large life insurance payout.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
The money was in a trust fund for Toby and me.
Julian didn't just want a family.
He wanted the money.
And he had systematically isolated my mother to get it.
“Now,” Julian said, his voice turning cold.
“Clara, you will go to your room.”
“Toby will stay in his room.”
“We are going to be a happy family.”
I gripped Toby’s small hand tighter.
I realized I couldn't run away without proof.
The police would believe the legal documents.
They would believe the respected guidance counselor.
They wouldn't believe a nineteen-year-old girl and an frightened child.
I had to find real proof of his deception.
“Fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
“I’ll go to my room.”
Julian smiled warmly again.
The sudden shift in his demeanor was terrifying.
“Good girl,” Julian said.
I led Toby up the stairs.
I took him into my bedroom instead of his.
I locked my bedroom door.
I sat Toby down on my desk chair.
“Toby, listen to me,” I whispered.
“Did Dad leave anything before he died?”
“Did he give you anything?”
My father had worked at the local municipal records office.
He was a careful man.
He wrote everything down in small black notebooks.
Toby reached inside his small shirt.
Around his neck was a thin leather string.
Hanging from the string was a silver key.
“Dad gave me this the day before the accident,” Toby whispered.
“He told me to hide it from everyone.”
“Even Mom.”
My father must have known something was wrong before he died.
“Where does this key go, Toby?” I asked.
Toby looked toward the attic stairs in the hallway ceiling.
Our house had a small pull-down attic.
Julian had placed a heavy padlock on the attic door two months ago.
He claimed the roof was leaking and unsafe.
“Dad’s black box is up there,” Toby said.
My heart hammered in my chest.
I looked at my bedroom window.
There was a small wooden ledge outside.
It led directly to the attic window around the side of the roof.
It was dangerous.
The drop was two stories high.
If I slipped, I would fall onto the concrete driveway.
“Stay here, Toby,” I said.
“Lock this door behind me.”
I unlatched my bedroom window.
The cold afternoon wind rushed into the room.
I climbed out onto the narrow wooden ledge.
I pressed my back against the cold brick wall of the house.
Below me, the concrete driveway looked terrifyingly far away.
I took a deep breath.
I slid my feet slowly along the ledge.
Step by step.
My fingertips gripped the edge of the roof gutters.
The wind howled in my ears.
I reached the small attic window.
It was painted shut.
I pulled the silver key from my pocket.
I used the metal key to scrape away the dried paint around the window frame.
My hands were freezing.
My muscles ached with tension.
Finally, the window latch gave way.
I pushed the glass frame open.
I tumbled inside the dark, dusty attic.
The air smelled of old cardboard and dry insulation.
I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight.
Boxes were stacked everywhere.
In the far corner sat an old wooden trunk.
It belonged to my father.
It was secured with a heavy iron lock.
I stepped over the loose floorboards.
I inserted the silver key into the iron lock.
Click.
The lock popped open.
I lifted the heavy wooden lid.
Inside lay my father’s old work coat.
Beneath the coat was a thick manila folder.
I opened the folder.
Inside were financial receipts and bank records.
Julian’s name was listed on every single page.
Julian had been my father’s accountant five years ago.
Julian had stolen over fifty thousand dollars from my father’s business account.
My father had discovered the theft right before his accident.
My father was preparing to file police charges against Julian.
Then my father suddenly died at the factory.
My blood ran completely ice cold.
It wasn't an accident.
Julian didn't just marry my mother for money.
He married her to stop the police investigation.
He married her to cover up a murder.
Suddenly, the attic floorboards creaked behind me.
A flash of light illuminated the dust in the air.
I turned around slowly.
Julian was standing at the top of the internal attic stairs.
He held a heavy steel crowbar in his right hand.
May you like
He had smashed the padlock from the inside door.
“You really are as stubborn as your father was, Clara,” Julian said softly.
