Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Echo
The house was finally silent.
The heavy oak doors stood wide open, allowing the cool afternoon breeze to sweep through the grand foyer, clearing out the lingering scent of fear and expensive cologne. The agents outside were busy placing yellow evidence markers near the entry steps, while two more officers stood guard by the front gate.
Thomas walked slowly away from the door, his polished black shoes echoing softly against the light wood. He walked into the living room, stopping near the beige sofa where the nightmare had begun.
The room was still messy from the violent confrontation. The throw pillows were scattered across the floor; a small end table had been bumped, spilling a glass of water onto the rug.
Thomas looked down at the floor right where Rebecca had been pinned.
Sitting near the edge of the rug was a tiny, bright blue plastic hairpin shaped like a butterfly. It belonged to Lily. It was covered in a faint layer of dust from the floorboards.
Thomas slowly bent down, his knee cracking slightly in the quiet room. He picked up the small plastic hairpin with two fingers, holding it gently, as if it were made of delicate glass. He pulled out his linen handkerchief, wiped the dust off the small butterfly, and carefully placed it into his breast pocket, right next to his heart.
He took one last look around the grand, empty living room—a multi-million-dollar prison built of glass, stone, and psychological violence.
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"Never again," Thomas whispered to the walls.
He turned on his heel and walked out of the house. As he stepped across the threshold onto the stone porch, he reached out, pulled the massive oak double doors shut with a heavy, final click, and turned the master deadbolt lock with his own key.
