“He’s gone crazy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain.

“He received a call from his creditors,” she said, staring at the floor. “They are coming for him.”

“He’s ruined,” Daniel said from the doorway.

“He said he needs those documents,” Megan sobbed, grabbing my jacket. “He said they are worth millions on the market.”

“Did he find them?” I asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “But he went to get something from his car.”

She looked toward the window that faced the driveway.

“He had a look in his eye,” Megan whispered. “He’s not going to let us leave.”

I stood up, my heart racing as I looked out the window into the dark yard.

Below, a shadow moved near the garage, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning.

It was Ethan, his coat soaked through, his face pale and distorted with rage.

He was walking back toward the kitchen door, his hand buried deep in his pocket.

In his other hand, he carried a heavy iron crowbar.

“We have to lock the doors,” I said, turning to Daniel.