Buried in the Noise

Leo sedates me with chamomile tea. Not the loose-leaf stuff I import from Oregon, but a bag of celestial seasonings he found in the back of the pantry.

"Drink it," he says. "It'll help you sleep."

He’s wearing his 'concerned husband' face. The one he practices in the mirror. It's a good face. It almost reaches his eyes.

I sip the tea. It tastes like dust and something metallic. A sedative? Maybe. Or maybe just my own paranoia, coating my tongue like fur.

"I'm going to handle the lawyers," he says, smoothing my hair back. "You rest. The press is gone for now. The police won't be back until tomorrow. Just... sleep, El. Let me take care of everything."

He kisses my forehead. A chaste, dry kiss.

Then he leaves, closing the bedroom door with a soft *click*.

I wait.

I count to sixty. Then sixty again.

I get up.

My legs are shaky, but not from sedatives. From adrenaline. The kind that fueled my twelve-year-old self when she realized the man at the door wasn't selling encyclopedias.

I tiptoe to the door. I press my ear against the wood.

Silence.

The house is a tomb. The renovation plastic hangs still, like shrouds.

I open the door. Just a crack.

Leo is downstairs. I can hear him. He’s in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. The sound of a glass bottle clinking. Beer? Or wine? He usually drinks bourbon when he's stressed.

I slip out into the hallway. The floorboards are cold under my bare feet. I haven't put socks on. I don't want to make a sound.

I head for the back stairs—the servant’s stairs. They’re narrow, steep, and hidden behind a panel in the linen closet. Leo hates them. He says they’re dangerous. *A death trap,* he called them once.

I open the panel. The hinges scream.

I freeze.

Downstairs, the refrigerator door slams shut.

"Elena?" Leo calls out.

I hold my breath.

"Elena, you okay up there?"

I don't answer.

A pause. Then, the sound of footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Moving toward the main staircase.

He's coming up.

I slip into the servant's stairwell and pull the panel shut. I'm in darkness. Total, suffocating darkness. The air smells of old dust and dry rot.

I wait.

I hear him walk down the hallway. He pauses outside the bedroom door.

Does he open it? Does he check the bed?

If he does, he’ll see the pillows arranged under the duvet. The classic prison break decoy. It’s pathetic. It won't fool him for a second.

But he doesn't open the door.

He just stands there. Breathing. I can hear it through the wall. A slow, rhythmic inhalation. Like he’s smelling the air for fear.

Then he walks away. Back downstairs.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I creep down the servant's stairs. They creak, but the sound is muffled by the walls. I emerge in the pantry, behind the shelves of canned tomatoes and pasta.

I peek through the gap in the shelves.

Leo is in the kitchen. He’s sitting at the island, his laptop open. The blue light illuminates his face, making him look ghoulish.

He’s not drinking beer. He’s drinking water. A tall glass of ice water.

And he’s on the phone.

Not his phone. Not the iPhone 14 Pro Max he keeps in his pocket.

A burner.

A cheap, plastic flip phone.

"She's asleep," he says. His voice is low. "Yeah. I gave her the pill. She's out."

A pause. He listens.

"No," he says. "She doesn't suspect. She thinks it was a prank. She bought the whole 'viral video' narrative hook, line, and sinker."

Another pause. He laughs. A short, sharp bark.

"Yeah. I handled the lock. Wiped it clean. Mercer is a plodder. He won't look too close. As long as she keeps her mouth shut."

He takes a sip of water.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'll make sure she does. If she starts asking questions... well. We have a plan for that, don't we?"

He closes the phone. He snaps it shut with a definitive *clack*.

He puts it in his pocket.

Then he stands up and walks toward the basement door.

The basement.

Where my workshop is. Where the smart home server rack is.

Where the logs are.

He thinks he deleted them from the main hub. But he doesn't know about the physical backup. The hard drive I installed last month, hidden behind the breaker panel.

If he finds it...

If he destroys it...

I have to get there first.

He opens the basement door and disappears down the stairs.

I wait five seconds. Then I follow.

The basement stairs are open-backed. Wooden. They groan if you look at them wrong.

I descend like a ghost. One step. Wait. Two steps. Wait.

Leo is in the server room. The door is ajar. I can see him. He’s crouching in front of the main rack, typing on a wireless keyboard.

He’s deleting the footage.

Not just the gate log. Everything. The last twenty-four hours.

I watch him. My husband. The man I promised to love and cherish.

He hits enter.

*DELETE ALL.*

The screen goes black.

He sighs. A sound of satisfaction.

Then he stands up. He turns.

And he looks right at the breaker panel.

My heart stops.

The panel is slightly askew. I opened it yesterday to check a fuse. I didn't close it all the way.

If he looks closely... if he sees the cable running from the main server into the wall cavity behind the breakers...

He takes a step toward it.

He reaches out.

He’s going to open it. He’s going to find the backup drive.

And then I’ll have nothing. No proof. No leverage.

I look around. I need a distraction.

My eyes land on the main water valve. It’s old. Rusty. If I turn it, the pipes will groan. It sounds like the house is dying.

I’m ten feet away.

Leo’s hand is on the panel latch.

I lunge.

I grab the valve wheel and wrench it. Hard.

*GROAN.*

The pipes shudder. A vibration runs through the ceiling joists.

Leo spins around. "Who's there?"

I duck behind a stack of insulation rolls.

"Elena?"

His voice isn't soft anymore. It’s sharp. Dangerous.

He walks toward my hiding spot. I can see his shadow stretching across the concrete floor. It looks like a monster.

He’s holding something.

A screwdriver.

He picked it up from the workbench.

He stops. He listens.

The pipes are still groaning. *Clang. Clang. Clang.*

"Must be the pressure," he mutters.

He turns back to the server. He looks at the breaker panel one last time.

Then he shrugs.

He walks out of the room. He walks past me. So close I could touch his pant leg.

He goes up the stairs. I hear the door close. I hear the lock turn.

He locked me in.

I scramble out from behind the insulation. I run to the breaker panel. I yank it open.

The drive is there. A small, black rectangle. The size of a pack of gum.

I pull it out. The cable snaps.

I hold it in my hand. It’s warm.

This is it. The truth.

The gate code. The time stamps. The footage of the man in the mask entering my house *before* Ethan arrived.

I shove it into my pocket.

Now I just have to get out.

I go to the stairs. The door is locked. A deadbolt. Keyed from the outside.

I’m trapped.

In my own basement. With a hard drive that proves my husband is an accomplice to murder.

I look around.

There’s a window. A small, hopper window near the ceiling. It opens into the window well under the back deck.

It’s small. Maybe eighteen inches wide.

I drag a workbench over. I climb up.

I push the latch. It’s rusted shut.

I grab a hammer from the pegboard. Not the murder weapon. A different one.

I smash the latch.

The glass shatters.

I pull myself up. I squeeze through the opening. The broken glass tears at my robe. I don't feel it.

I tumble into the window well. Snow and dead leaves.

I climb out.

I’m in the backyard. The air is freezing. I’m barefoot in the snow.

I need to get to my car. I need to get to Mercer.

I run around the side of the house.

The driveway lights are on.

I see my car. The Audi.

And I see Leo.

He’s standing by the driver’s door. He’s holding a gas can.

He’s pouring gasoline onto the seats.

"Leo!" I scream.

He looks up. He sees me.

He doesn't look surprised. He looks... sad.

"I'm sorry, El," he says. "I really am."

He pulls a lighter from his pocket.

"But you can't leave," he says. "Not now."

He flicks the lighter.

The flame dances in the wind.

"Leo, no!"

He drops the lighter.

The car *whooshes* into flames. An orange fireball erupts, illuminating the snow, the trees, his face.

He smiles.

"Now," he says, pulling the burner phone from his pocket. "Let's call Aris. He'll know what to do with you."

He starts walking toward me.

I turn. And I run.

Into the woods. Toward the Folly. Toward the hole in the fence.

But as I run, I hear something behind me.

Not Leo. Leo is slow.

Something faster.

Something heavy, crashing through the underbrush.

I look back.

It’s not Leo.

It’s a dog.

A German Shepherd. Not ours. We don't have a dog.

It’s Aris’s dog. I’ve seen it in photos. *Cerberus.*

It’s gaining on me.

I reach the Folly. I scramble over the wall.

The dog hits the stone below me, snarling, snapping.

I look down.

And there, in the center of the Folly, illuminated by the fire from my burning car...

Is Chloe.

She’s lying on the ground.

Her eyes are open. Staring at the sky.

Her throat is... gone.

And standing over her, wiping a knife on a silk handkerchief...

Is Aris Thorne.

He looks up. He sees me.

He smiles.

"Hello, Elena," he says. "I was wondering when you'd join us."

He steps over Chloe's body.

"Did you bring the drive?" he asks.

I back away. I hit a pillar.

"Give it to me," he says, holding out his hand. "And maybe... just maybe... I'll let Leo live."

I look past him. Toward the house.

Leo is standing on the back porch. Watching.

He’s not running to help me.

He’s holding a glass of wine.

And he’s raising it in a toast.