Chapter 9 - Shadows in the Garden
Instinct took over before panic could paralyze me. I slammed the tablet shut, slid it beneath the deep mattress of the guest bed down the hall, and bolted toward the master bathroom. I twisted the brass handles of the shower, letting hot water thunder against the porcelain tiles, sending billows of steam into the mirror.
"Clara?" Ethan’s voice drifted up the curved staircase, smooth, melodic, carrying that familiar cadence of a devoted husband coming home from a long day. Seven years of trusting that voice shattered into jagged pieces in an instant.
"In here, sweetheart!" I called back, my vocal cords tightening around the lie. "Just washing up!"
I gripped the marble countertop until my knuckles turned porcelain-white, watching the condensation blur my terrified reflection. Through the bathroom window overlooking the rear grounds, the twilight was bleeding into ink. The estate was bordered by dense pine woods, but down by the old Victorian greenhouse, a faint amber light flickered.
Ethan had claimed the greenhouse was structurally unsound and nailed the double doors shut two summers ago. Yet as I watched through the misted glass, a figure dressed in a dark raincoat emerged from the overgrown foliage behind the structure, carrying a heavy aluminum case toward the tree line.
Footsteps approached outside the bathroom door. A soft knock made my heart leap into my throat.
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"Did you take your drops tonight, Clara?" Ethan asked from just beyond the wood. "You look exhausted. I brought you something warm."
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