She lifted a glass of red wine and slowly took a sip while watching me shiver in the rain. Her face showed no emotion, only quiet satisfaction.
Across the street an elderly neighbor named Mrs Peck stood behind her living room window. She looked directly at me while I mouthed the words help me, but after a few seconds she simply closed the curtains.
I slowly slid down against the brick wall of the porch and wrapped my arms around my knees while the cold crept deeper into my bones. My father usually returned home from work at six o’clock, which meant I had nearly three hours left to survive.
At least that was what I believed.
Then bright headlights suddenly cut through the rain and a silver pickup truck turned slowly into our driveway. My father Douglas Walsh stepped out of the truck wearing his expensive suit and he froze instantly when he saw me curled on the porch.
His briefcase slipped from his hand and hit the wet pavement with a dull sound. Behind me the front door suddenly unlocked and Tiffany began opening it.
Chapter 2