Chapter 6 - What Dad Saw From the Driveway
I woke up because the hallway light was on.
It was just after six. My room was still gray and Mom's door was closed. Downstairs, Dad was already dressed in the same dark t-shirt from last night, sitting on the edge of the couch with the black flashlight on the coffee table in front of him. Not on. Just there. Next to his phone, screen up. He hadn't slept. I could tell by the way his stubble looked heavier and his eyes were red at the corners.
That morning he didn't look angry. He looked tired and braced, like he was waiting to do something he didn't want to do.
He heard me on the stairs and looked up. "Hey," he said quietly. "Come here a sec."
I sat on the other end of the couch. The house smelled like coffee and the hardwood floor was cold under my socks. I kept my hands tucked under my legs so he wouldn't see them shaking.
He didn't start with the door. He started with the driveway.
"Last Tuesday," he said. His voice was low, even. "I came home early from the job site. Your mom was unloading groceries in the driveway. Two bags. She saw me pull in and she... she kind of froze. Hid a bag behind her leg."
He rubbed his jaw. A small pause before he kept going.
"I thought maybe it was nothing. Then Thursday, I fixed the kitchen cabinet and I saw the receipt on top of the fridge. Extra bread, extra soup, those little applesauce cups you don't even like anymore. And the plates. I've been counting, Lily. Three plates at dinner, but only two of us eating at the table."
I swallowed. I hadn't realized he'd been counting.
"Last night wasn't the first time she slid food under that door," he said. He looked right at me then. "You knew?"
I nodded before I could stop myself. My throat was dry.
He reached for his phone, didn't pick it up, just tapped it once with his finger. "I looked it up last night after you went to bed. If there's a minor in this house not in school, not with a guardian permission, we are liable. Like, actual legal trouble. Truancy laws. If she's hurt or if someone reported her missing... Lily, we could get investigated. I could lose work."
That was the fear under all of it. Not that Mom was hiding something weird. That we would get in trouble for it and he wouldn't be able to protect us.
"Who is in there?" he asked. No raising his voice. Just clear and flat. "You promised your mom you wouldn't tell. I'm asking you to tell me anyway."
I stared at the flashlight. My breath caught.
"I can't," I whispered.
"Lily."
"Dad, please." The words came out fast and then stopped. I made myself look at him. "It's a person. She's in trouble. That's all I can say right now."
His eyebrows pulled together. "She? How old?"
I shook my head. I was holding the line Mom had drawn and the one he was drawing, and I was right in the middle. "I'm not giving you her name because I promised. But she's not dangerous. She's scared. If you open that door like this, you'll scare her more."
He exhaled through his nose, slow. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and I saw his hands were tight. Not mad tight. Scared tight.
"Do you understand what you're asking me to do?" he said. "My wife is lying to me in my own house. My daughter is lying to me too, because she asked you to. And you want me to pretend that's okay for another day?"
"No," I said. "I'm asking you to wait one more day. Just until dinner. So we can do this the right way, without it blowing up."
He was quiet for a long time. The clock in the kitchen ticked. Somewhere upstairs, the heat clicked on.
"One day," he finally said. "That's it. By dinner tonight, that door opens. Either your mom opens it and tells me the truth herself, or I open it. And if it doesn't open, I'm calling the sheriff myself. Not to get anyone in trouble — to make sure whoever's in there is safe and we are not breaking the law keeping her."
My stomach dropped, but I nodded. It was more time than I thought he'd give.
"And you don't bring food in there without me knowing," he added. "If someone needs help, they get help in the light, not through a crack."
"Okay," I said. My voice was small.
He picked up the flashlight, turned it over once in his hand, and set it back down. He didn't look toward the hallway. He looked at me, and his face softened just a little.
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"I trust you, Lily bug," he said, using the old name he hadn't used in years. "Don't make me regret it."
I nodded again, and tears stung my eyes before I could stop them. He reached over and squeezed my shoulder, just once, and then he stood up and walked to the kitchen, leaving the flashlight where it was like a marker. The deadline was set. Dinner. The door would have to open.
