“It’s okay,” he interrupted, his voice low. “You didn’t.” He stepped back to let her in, his movements tense. The house felt different—charged and too quiet, like the air after a storm. Sabrina was nowhere to be seen. “I checked the whole place last night after you left,” Mark continued, leading her into the kitchen. He didn’t offer coffee. “Every room, every closet. Even the attic.”
Kayla waited, clutching her bag strap.
“I didn’t find anyone,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “But…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.
“But what?” Kayla prompted softly.
“But the lock on the attic crawlspace—the little one at the end of the hall—was broken. The hasp was snapped clean off, like someone forced it.” A cold thread wound through Kayla’s chest.
“Was it broken before?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Mark shook his head. “No. I check those things. And Sabrina says she didn’t touch it.” He said her name with a flatness that made Kayla wary.
“So someone *was* up there,” she whispered, the certainty both vindicating and horrifying.
“It looks that way,” Mark admitted. He leaned against the counter, his shoulders slumped. “I’m having a security system installed this afternoon. New locks on every exterior door today.” He sounded like he was reciting a list, trying to order a chaos he didn’t understand. “Until then, I’d feel better if you weren’t here alone. Actually, I’d feel better if you took the day off. Paid, of course.”
“Mark, I don’t need—”
“Please, Kayla.” The raw request in his tone stopped her. “Just for today. Let me get this handled. For my own peace of mind.” He looked so genuinely distressed that she couldn’t refuse.
“Okay,” she agreed quietly. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Thank you.” Some of the tension left his jaw. “And remember—anything, you call me. Not Sabrina. Me.” The specific instruction hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.