“You’re the third one.”

My chest tightened. I thought of Daniel’s first wife, supposedly dead from a medication accident. I thought of his former fiancée, who he said had vanished without warning. I thought of the isolated house, the gated property, the security system only he controlled.

“Eli,” I said carefully, “tell me everything.”

He swallowed hard. “This morning, I heard him in the basement with Mr. Grady. They were talking about a leak. Mr. Grady said it would spread faster if the windows stayed shut. Dad said that was fine—because by dark, no one would be left.”

The blood drained from my face.

Then I heard it—a faint metallic click from somewhere below the floor.

Eli whispered, “He locked the gate… and turned off the phone booster.”

For a split second, I froze—and in that second, I understood how danger really works. Not loud. Not obvious. Quiet, precise, already in motion before you can think.

Then Eli pulled my hand. “Not the front. The basement door is open.”

We ran.

Halfway down the stairs, the smell hit—sharp, unmistakable. Gas. Fresh. Intentional. The basement was dark, but enough light filtered in to reveal what I needed to see: a disconnected gas line, a timer clipped to a utility box, wires running toward the ignition.

My legs nearly gave out.

Eli gripped my sleeve. “I told you.”

I dragged him back upstairs.

“Phone,” I said.

“No signal. He shuts it off.”

Of course he did.

The landline was dead too. I had believed his excuse about storm damage the night before.

“Shoes. Keys. Anything.”

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