Before I could ask another question, a heavy thud echoed from next door. Both toddlers scrambled beneath the kitchen table. Seconds later, a man’s furious voice drifted faintly through an open side window.
“Maya! Chloe!”
The girls began to tremble uncontrollably. I hurried to shut the window and drew the curtain shut.
“Stay right there,” I whispered.
I crept to the front room and peeked through a narrow gap in the blinds. The man I had seen in the driveway stood on his porch. He looked completely different now—his face twisted in anger. He marched down the porch steps, looking side to side, before stomping toward the curb—straight toward my empty trash can.
I stepped away from the glass.
A moment later, three heavy bangs rattled my front door. Maya whimpered from under the table. Forcing myself to breathe, I opened the front door just a few inches, keeping the security chain latched.
The man glared at me through the gap. “Morning,” he snapped.
“Morning.”
He looked past my shoulder. “Have you seen two little girls?”
My heart slammed against my ribs, but I forced a look of pure confusion. “Little girls?”
“Twins. Three years old.”
So he knew exactly who was missing.
“No,” I said smoothly. “I haven’t.”
His jaw tightened. “They wandered out of the house.”
“Oh, that’s terrifying.”
“It is.” He didn’t move an inch. Neither did I. Then his mouth twisted into a cold smile that never reached his eyes. “If you see them, let me know directly. Don’t call anyone else. They have… severe behavioral issues.”
I kept my expression entirely blank. “Of course.”
He stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment before turning on his heel. I closed the door and locked it tight.
When I returned to the kitchen, Maya and Chloe were still huddled together under the table.
“You did good,” Maya whispered softly.
I crouched down beside them. “Sweetheart, I need you to tell me who that man is.”
Chloe buried her face into her sister’s shoulder. “Derek.”
“Derek who?”
She shook her head.
“Is Derek your dad?”
“No.”
“Your uncle?”
“No.”
“Does your mommy know you’re with him?”
At that question, Maya’s face completely crumpled. “Mommy can’t come out.”
Cold horror washed over me. “Why can’t she come out?”
The twins looked at each other. Then Chloe uttered a sentence that made my blood run cold:
“Because Derek locked her downstairs.”
I stared at Chloe, frozen. “Derek locked your mommy downstairs?”
Maya nodded solemnly. “She told us to be quiet.”
Every instinct shouted at me to dial 911 immediately, but I remembered Maya’s terror at the sight of my phone. I reached beneath the table and gently held out my hands. “Listen to me. The police do not take good girls away for asking for help. Derek lied to you.”
Maya searched my eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
I waited until she gave a small, resolute nod. Then I stepped into the pantry, keeping the door cracked so I could watch them, and dialed 911. I spoke in a quiet hurry, explaining that two three-year-old girls were hiding in my home and claiming their mother was trapped in the basement next door. The dispatcher instructed me to stay locked inside and avoid confronting the man.
I had barely hung up when someone slammed a fist against my front door.
This time, Derek wasn’t knocking—he was trying to break it down.
“Nora!” he roared.
My blood ran cold. I had never told him my name.
“Open this door!”
Under the table, the twins curled into tight balls.
“How do you know my name?” I shouted back.
He didn’t answer. The doorknob rattled violently against the latch. “Those girls belong with me! You don’t know what’s going on!”
“They told me they’re terrified of you!”
“They’re three! They don’t know what they’re talking about!”
“They knew enough to hide in my trash bin!”
