PART 1 — THE HOUSE THAT SMELLED LIKE BLEACH
My name is Ethan Walker.
After nearly seven months away with the Marines, I came home two days early to surprise my wife.
I had imagined that moment more times than I could count.
Sophia opening the door.
Her face changing when she saw me.
Me dropping my bag and finally holding her after months of screens, bad connections, missed calls, and conversations that always ended too soon.
I even stopped on the way home and bought her favorite white lilies.
Instead, when I unlocked our front door outside Indianapolis, the first thing that hit me was the smell.
Bleach.
Strong enough to sting my nose.
“Sophia?”
No answer.
I stepped inside.
The flowers were still in my hand when I saw the living room.
Our coffee table was lying on its side.
One dining chair had a broken leg.
The lamp beside the couch was gone.
There were scratches near the hallway wall.
Then I noticed the kitchen floor.
Dark reddish stains remained between the tiles.
Someone had scrubbed them.
Hard.
But not well enough.
I dropped the flowers.
“Sophia!”
Nothing.
I checked every room.
Empty.
Her phone went straight to voicemail.
Then I called her father.
Richard Carter answered on the fourth ring.
“Ethan?”
Something in his voice immediately bothered me.
“Where is Sophia?”
A pause.
