She fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to him. “I trust you.”
Heart racing, he grabbed the keys and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.” As he climbed into his mother’s car, he dialed 911.
Chase rang the doorbell a second time, his palms sweaty. He was going to sweet-talk Delilah into letting him into the attic. That was his only plan. Talking to the emergency dispatch hadn’t gone too well. He sounded like a lunatic, raving about a forged signature on a painting and a girl being held hostage. After ten minutes of getting nowhere, he hung up. He was sure he was now on some watch list somewhere.
The house was silent. If they weren’t home, maybe that was a good thing. He knew how to get in. Picking his way around the house, he crept toward the lattice. A quick glance around told him no one was watching. Their home was private, with large hedges shielding them from the neighbors. He climbed up the side of the house and over Isabella’s balcony.
The sliding glass door wasn’t locked, so he slipped inside. Isabella’s room looked the same as yesterday. He crept out into the hallway and examined the locked attic door. There was a keyhole under the handle, much like the old skeleton keys would open, but it looked modern instead.
He had to find the keys.
He walked down to Elenore’s bedroom and flipped on the light. No bowl of keys lay about, easy to find, so he started opening drawers and cabinets. He was rewarded when he pulled open the drawer on her nightstand. A ring of keys rattled, and he grabbed them.
It was obvious which one opened the attic door. He shoved it into the keyhole and turned it, hearing a click as it unlocked. He threw open the door and ran up the stairs only to find another locked door. He pounded on it. “Isabella?”
A muffled noise came from behind the door. “Chase?” He could barely hear her.
His heart pumped faster, his fingers trembling. “I’m coming!” he yelled. He peered at the lock. A deadbolt, just like any other. He turned the ring of keys in his hand. He’d have to try them all.
The sound of the front door opening wafted up the steps, and he froze. Voices carried. Delilah laughed. They were home. Panic flooded him, and he ran down the stairs to close the first door. If he were quiet, maybe he wouldn’t be detected until he got Isabella out of there.
He crept back up the stairs in the pitch blackness. He felt around for the deadbolt keyhole and then tried the first key. It didn’t fit. He continued, and had tried several of them when one key slipped and he dropped the ring, making a clinking noise as the keys hit one another. He froze, listening. He couldn’t hear anything except his own heartbeat, so he picked up the keys again and started over.
His own breathing sounded loud in the quiet stairwell. It seemed to take forever until he finally got one key to slide into the hole. He turned it. The door opened, and light flooded over him.
Isabella threw her arms around him. “You came!”
“Shh,” he said, hugging her close, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He shut the door behind him. “Your stepmother came home as I was trying to unlock the door,” he whispered. “They’re downstairs.”
She sobbed into his shirt. “I wasn’t sure you would find me. How did you know where I was?”
He stroked her hair. “Your poppy painting. I saw it hanging in a Hollywood producer’s home. It had your father’s signature on it.”
“She’s forcing me to make more.”
“I know.”
His mind reeled as to what he should do next. Charge downstairs with Isabella and barge their way outside? That was better than waiting up in the attic to be discovered. He pulled back and took her hand.
“We need to get out of here. Let’s try to sneak out quietly, but if we’re seen, be prepared to make a run for it.”
She nodded, and he opened the door. They crept down the carpeted stairs to the bottom door. He listened. No sounds filtered through. He pushed it open.
The hallway was empty. He gripped Isabella’s hand and walked toward her old room. The door creaked as he pushed it open. He froze, listening. Nothing. Had Elenore left again? He didn’t want to wait to find out. He tugged Isabella through her room and to the sliding-glass door. The curtains billowed inward with the breeze. He must have left it open.
Isabella swung her leg over the balcony and found purchase on the lattice. She descended and he followed, his heart pounding. He climbed down and jumped the rest of the way.
Elenore came around the side of the house. “Well, isn’t this unfortunate.” She pointed a hot pink revolver at him. He froze. Isabella’s eyes grew wide.
Delilah appeared and grabbed Isabella. Isabella started to scream, but Delilah clamped her hand over her mouth. Ava picked her way over to them.
Elenore grabbed Chase’s arm and tugged him toward the cliff, her revolver pointed at his head. He didn’t struggle for fear the gun would go off. Elenore clicked her tongue. “This has really been a sad turn of events, Isabella.”
“Should have stayed away from him,” Delilah hissed in Isabella’s ear.
“The police are out looking for you, Isabella, but they won’t find you.” Elenore’s grip on his arm tightened.
Ava’s eyes grew wide. “Why not?”
