The Silent Mirror and the Lies That Broke My Family
Caleb didn’t answer, his eyes locked on the gun.
I opened the door and stepped out into the freezing rain.
The cold air hit my face, clearing my head.
I kept low, moving along the line of pines that bordered the south side of the property.
My boots sank into the wet mud, making no sound.
I reached the side door where Wade’s SUV was idling.
Exhaust fumes rose in thick white clouds, smelling of cheap gasoline.
Through the frosted glass of the door, I saw a single light burning in the hallway.
I tried the handle.
It was locked.
I moved around to the back, near the loading dock and the holding cells.
There was a small ventilation window three feet off the ground.
It was rusted, the latch barely holding.
I took my pocketknife, wedged the blade into the gap, and popped the lock.
The metal screeched softly, but the wind covered the sound.
I hauled myself up and slid through the opening, landing on the cold concrete floor of the janitor’s closet.
It smelled of bleach and damp mops.