Chapter 3 - In the Dark
In the suffocating pitch-black of my mother’s living room, total chaos erupted.
"The fuse box!" Uncle Ray shouted, his heavy boots stumbling over an ottoman. "Nobody move, somebody grab a flashlight!"
Women were screaming. Glassware clattered. In the absolute dark, all I could hear was the frantic, rasping sound of heavy breathing right next to my ear.
Marcus.
A hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice, fingers digging into my tendon. A cold, metallic scent hit my face—the smell of old coins and motor oil.
"Give me the phone, Sarah," Marcus’s voice hissed, barely an inch from my cheek. It wasn't the voice of my sister’s husband; it was a desperate, feral rasp. "You have no idea what she did. You have no idea what kind of mess you’re dragging that boy into. Give it to me, or you won't make it out of this living room."
"Get your hands off me!" I swung my free arm blindly, the sharp metal handle of the sewing scissors clipping something solid—his cheekbone.
Marcus let out a muffled grunt of pain and his grip slackened. I ripped my hand free, grabbed Leo by the collar of his suit jacket in the dark, and yanked him behind my back.
"Leo, run to the stairs!" I yelled.
Suddenly, the screen of the burner phone lit up again in my hand. In the pale blue glare, I saw Marcus. Blood was trickling down his cheek from a fresh cut, his eyes wild and bloodshot, his fingers reaching out to snatch the device.
Before he could grab it, the high-pitched beam of a heavy Maglite flashlight cut through the dark, shining straight into Marcus’s retinas.
"Step away from my daughter, Marcus!" my mother’s voice rang out, cold and razor-sharp. She stood in the hallway doorway, holding my late father’s heavy four-D-cell flashlight like a club.
Marcus blinked, shielding his eyes with his sleeve, panting heavily. The hallway behind my mother began to flicker with the weak yellow glow of emergency candles being lit by my cousins.
"She’s hysterical, Evelyn," Marcus breathed, trying to steady his voice, but the tremor in his hands gave him away. "Sarah is tearing Rachel’s dress apart. She’s disrespecting Rachel’s memory in front of our son."
"Mom," I said, my voice shaking with adrenaline as I held the glowing phone aloft. "Rachel left this. Inside her dress. She said Marcus killed her for finding the accounts."
The room went dead silent. The only sound was the steady rain starting to hammer against the bay windows outside.
Marcus wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. He looked around the room, realizing that every relative—all eight of Rachel’s cousins, her uncles, her mother—was staring at him with unmasked horror.
"You’re all crazy," Marcus whispered, backing slowly toward the front door. "You’re all out of your damn minds."
He reached behind him, grabbed the brass doorknob, and yanked the front door open. The autumn storm blew cold rain across the hardwood.
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"I’m taking my son home," Marcus said, his eyes locking onto Leo. "Get in the truck, Leo. Now."
"No," Leo said, stepping out from behind my legs. His voice wasn't shaking anymore. "Mom told me you pushed her. I saw you."
