My eyes scanned the screen, reading the words twice, three times, unable to process the horror of what she was writing.

“There is a ventilation pipe disguised as a drain near the back of the garden,” the message continued.

“If you drop a stone down it, you can hear how deep it goes.”

“He keeps the key on his main keyring. It is the small, brass one with the star engraved on the side.”

“Do not trust his schedule. He is never truly gone.”

The cursor blinked at the bottom of the screen.

I wanted to reply.

My fingers touched the keys, ready to type a hundred different questions.

*Who is down there?*

*How did you get out?*

*Where are you now?*

Before I could type a single letter, a low hum vibrated through the floorboards.

The heavy iron gates at the end of the driveway were opening.

I looked at the smart-home panel on the wall.

A small video feed popped up in the corner of the screen, showing the front driveway.

Julian’s dark sedan was rolling slowly through the gates.

He was home early.