Chapter 6 - The Voice in the Dark
Frank.
Hannah stared at the glowing screen. Ryan’s father had left nearly half an hour ago to drive his sister Marcy home before the black ice set in. Why was he calling now? He couldn't possibly know what had happened—he had missed the entire explosion at the dinner table.
She swiped the answer button and brought the phone to her ear.
“Frank?” she said, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts.
“Hannah?” Frank’s voice sounded raspy, breathless, and intensely urgent through the speaker. “Are you still at the house? Tell me you aren’t still inside that house.”
Hannah swallowed hard, glancing back at the glowing windows of the brick colonial. “I’m... I’m in the car, Frank. Ellie and I are in the car.”
A heavy, ragged sigh echoed through the phone line, followed by the sound of tires crunching on gravel and the steady thump-thump of windshield wipers. Frank hadn’t gone all the way back to his sister’s house yet; he must have pulled over somewhere down the block or at the gas station on the corner.
“Thank God,” Frank muttered, his voice dropping into a harsh, gravelly whisper that carried a lifetime of suppressed fury. “Marcy called me. She left her reading glasses on the entryway console, and when I went back to pick her up five minutes ago, I didn’t go inside—I stayed in the driveway, but I saw through the dining room window. I saw Judith raise her hand. I saw what she did to you, Hannah.”
Hannah felt a fresh wave of tears prick her eyes, but this time, they weren't tears of weakness. “Ryan stayed inside, Frank. He told me to wait in the car while he talked to them.”
“Ryan is a coward,” Frank said flatly, without a shred of hesitation. “He’s been molded by that woman for thirty-five years to believe that keeping Judith happy is the primary function of a human being. He’s inside right now trying to negotiate a ceasefire in a war that should have been burned to the ground a decade ago.”
Hannah gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I can’t stay with him, Frank. If he doesn’t walk out that front door right now and stand by us, we’re done.”
“He won’t walk out,” Frank said grimly. “Not on his own. He’s too weak to break the spell. But listen to me very carefully, Hannah. Do not go to a hotel. Do not wait for him in the driveway like a punished dog.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
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A harsh, bitter chuckle came across the line. Frank cleared his throat, and then he spoke the single sentence that would alter the trajectory of the entire family forever.
“Drive to my woodworking shop on Industrial Road, Hannah—the key is under the blue ceramic frog by the side door—and while you’re unlocking the place, I’m calling my lawyer to draw up the papers that will strip Judith of every single cent of leverage she thinks she holds over this family.”
