Chapter 2 — The Quiet Corridor
The air in the hallway felt noticeably cooler than the rest of the house.
Brenda stepped away from the living room archway, her soft-soled shoes making almost no sound on the polished wooden floorboards.
The afternoon sun filtered through a high window, casting long, slanted beams across the walls.
She walked past the closed door of the guest bathroom.
Further down, the corridor narrowed slightly.
She approached the second picture frame hanging on the right wall.
It was a standard cherrywood frame holding a landscape photo taken during a family vacation years ago.
At a quick glance, the frame appeared completely normal and undisturbed.
Brenda slowed her pace, reaching out to steady the top corner of the wood.
The frame tilted forward with unusual ease.
She frowned, lifting the heavy border slightly away from the plaster.
The brass nails securing the hanging wire were loose.
In fact, the wall anchors were slightly pulled out of the drywall, as if something heavy had recently been pressed against the back panel or violently yanked out.
A faint dragging sound echoed from the open doorway of the study just a few feet ahead.
Brenda froze, her hand still resting against the tilted frame.
The sound was deliberate.
It was the unmistakable scrape of metal sliding across a hardwood floor.
A heavy thud echoed from inside the dark study behind Brenda, making her instantly spin around to face the doorway.