Ben asked him where Linda was.
“At home, probably.”
“Does her house have a basement?”
Ryan stared at him.
“I’m not answering any more questions.”
Ben nodded once, as though Ryan had just confirmed something useful.
Then Linda called.
The phone in my hand began vibrating.
Her name filled the screen.
Ryan lunged.
Sam caught his arm before he reached me.
The movement lasted less than a second, but the room exploded with it.
The kitchen chair tipped over.
The paper bag of peaches hit the floor.
One rolled beneath the table.
Sheriff Turner’s voice sharpened.
“Ryan.
Stop.”
Ryan froze.
The phone kept buzzing.
Ben looked at me.
“Answer it.
Speaker.”
I did.
Linda did not wait for hello.
“Where are you? She’s making noise again.
I can’t keep going down there every five minutes.”
Nobody in my kitchen breathed.
Ryan closed his eyes.
Linda continued.
“And Curtis says the new lock should hold, but I told you we should never have let her get that close to the stairs in the first place.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Linda.”
Silence.
A long, terrible silence.
Then she said my name.
“Evie?”
Her voice sounded smaller.
Sheriff Turner stepped closer to the phone.
“Linda, this is Ben Turner.
Is Janet in your basement?”
The call disconnected.
Ryan bolted for the door.
He made it two steps.
Ben stopped him before he reached the porch.
What followed happened with a speed that felt unreal after five years of believing nothing could ever change.
Ben called for assistance.
He preserved the messages and photographs on Ryan’s phone.
He relayed Linda’s statements from the call and the evidence suggesting someone was being held against her will.
I heard official words around me, but only one mattered.
Janet.
Sam stood beside me while deputies arrived outside.
“I’m going with them,” I said.
Ben looked at me carefully.
“You stay behind us.
You do exactly what I say.”
