Chapter 2 - Aunt Sarah

Sarah watched the video once.

Then she watched the first twelve seconds again.

Not because she doubted what she had seen.

Because her brain refused to accept that the woman in the dim shed was her little sister.

Emily, who used to climb the old maple tree behind their parents’ house.

Emily, who once drove three hours in the middle of the night because Sarah had called crying after a breakup.

Emily, who had spent the past five years saying Grant was “just stressed.”

Sarah stood in her kitchen, one hand gripping the counter so hard her fingers turned white.

The video shook as Ellie whispered behind the phone.

Grandma Linda’s voice was clear.

“Let her remember her place.”

Then Grant stepped into frame.

Sarah stopped the video.

She called 911.

“My sister is being held in a shed behind her home,” she said. “Her ten-year-old daughter sent me video evidence. There’s a man with a rope. I need officers there now.”

The dispatcher asked for the address.

Sarah gave it.

Then she was told not to confront anyone.

Sarah grabbed her keys anyway.

She called again, this time to their older brother, Marcus.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hey.”

“Drive to Emily’s house.”

“What happened?”

“Grant happened.”

Silence.

Then Marcus said, “I’m leaving.”

Back at the shed, Ellie stayed behind the corner, phone clutched against her chest.

Her knees trembled.

She wanted to run to the street.

But her mother was still inside.

Through the gap, she heard Grant say, “You should’ve told me about the account.”

Emily answered, “You should’ve stopped taking things that weren’t yours.”

Ellie knew about the account.

Her mother had shown her only once.

Not the balance.

Just the blue envelope hidden inside the cereal box.

“For emergencies,” Emily had whispered.

Ellie had asked, “Like a fire?”

Emily had smiled sadly.

“Something like that.”

Now Ellie understood.

The emergency had always been Grant.

A car turned onto the street.

Ellie leaned toward the fence, hoping to see Sarah.

Instead, a black pickup slowed in front of the house.

Grant’s younger brother, Kyle, stepped out.

Ellie’s stomach dropped.

Kyle slammed the truck door and shouted toward the backyard.

“Grant! Mom called me. What’s going on?”

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Inside the shed, Grant smiled.

“Good,” he said. “Now we have help.”