Just 11 minutes after I returned from the hospital with a shattered femur, my mother-in-law kicked my crutches away. Ignoring my agonized screams, she and my husband dragged me into a pitch-black garage.

A faint green glow illuminated the numbers.

Now I needed Caleb’s code.
Before I could enter the first number, a sharp metallic sound sliced through the silence.

The deadbolt.

My hand froze above the keypad.

Had they heard me?

Was Caleb returning?

Vivian?

The lock shifted.

Then went still.

The door never opened.

Instead, voices floated through the air vent above continue reading …