I remembered something from when Mason was six. Carol had taught both grandchildren a little signal for emergencies.

Three knocks meant: I need help.

My heart began pounding.

“It’s Grandpa,” I said again. “I’m opening the door.”

“No!”

Lily’s scream was so sudden that I nearly dropped the phone.

Her eyes opened wide.

“Grandpa, please don’t.”

“That’s your brother in there.”

She shook her head violently.

“Not alone.”

Those two words changed everything.

I stepped backward.

“What do you mean?”

Lily stared toward the hallway.

“There was somebody else.”

Before I could ask another question, the closet door rattled.

Mason screamed.

I grabbed the handle.

This time I didn’t hesitate.

I pulled.

The door opened barely six inches before something fell forward and hit my leg.

A small hand.

Mason’s hand.

I yanked the door wider.

My grandson was curled on the floor between coats, blankets, and an overturned plastic storage bin. His wrists were red from whatever had been tied around them. A strip of silver tape hung from one sleeve.

His face was wet with tears.

“Mason!”

I dropped to my knees and pulled him toward me.

He clung to my shirt so hard that his fingernails dug through the fabric.

“Grandpa.”“I’m here. I’m here.”

“They said you wouldn’t come.”

“Who said that?”

He looked over my shoulder.

His eyes fixed on Lily.

Then he whispered something that made the blood drain from my face.

“Mom.”

Lily began crying.

“No, Mason.”

He shook his head.

“She told me Grandpa would believe her.”

I looked at Lily.

She was trembling.

“Grandpa, I tried to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

She glanced at the orange prescription bottle on the kitchen counter.

“They gave me the medicine.”

My eyes moved back to the bottle.

“But they told me it was vitamins.”

Mason started coughing.

I pulled him closer.

“What happened tonight?”

Neither child answered.

Then the front door made a sound.

A soft metallic click.

Someone was unlocking it.

I stood immediately.

The dispatcher heard it too.

“Sir, is someone entering the residence?”

I didn’t answer.

I pushed Mason behind me and held Lily against my side.

The front door opened.

Footsteps entered the house.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Whoever it was wasn’t afraid of being there.

A man’s voice came from the darkness.

“Dad?”

My son’s voice.

Brian.

For one strange second, relief washed over me.

Then I remembered the empty driveway.

The note.

The drugged child.

The locked closet.

And Lily’s warning.

Brian stepped into the hallway.

His face looked pale.

His hair was wet, as if he’d been outside in the rain.

But there was something wrong with his expression.

He wasn’t surprised to see me.

He looked almost disappointed.

“Dad,” he said quietly. “You weren’t supposed to come.”

I tightened my grip around Lily.

“Where’s Marissa?”

Brian didn’t answer.

“Where were you?”

Still nothing.

Then his eyes moved to Mason.

My grandson flinched.

That was all I needed to see.

I put myself between them.

“Stay away from my grandchildren.”