Chapter 1 - THE LIGHT UNDER THE DOOR
Ethan Mercer came home from his business trip at 12:43 in the morning and found every light in the house turned off.
Candice’s SUV was gone. So was Brooke’s little red Honda.
He assumed his wife and stepdaughter were asleep until he heard water splashing behind the laundry-room door.
“Candice?”
The splashing stopped.
Ethan opened the door and reached for the switch. Nothing happened. The bulb had been removed from the ceiling fixture. Light from the hallway fell across a bucket, a pile of damp clothes, and his sixteen-year-old son kneeling beside the utility sink.
Lucas wore a torn gray T-shirt and basketball shorts. His hair was wet. Dirty water ran from his elbows onto the concrete floor.
“Dad?”
Ethan had not heard that tone since Lucas was six and woke from nightmares after his mother’s funeral.
“What are you doing down here?”
Lucas pushed himself upright, then grabbed the sink when his knees weakened.
“Finishing the orders.”
“What orders?”
“The laundry.”
Ethan saw plastic bags stacked against the wall. Each bore a customer’s name written in black marker. Some held restaurant uniforms. Others contained bedding, towels, and children’s clothes.
Candice’s pickup-laundry business had grown larger than she had admitted.
“Where is everybody?”
Lucas looked toward the kitchen.
“They went on vacation.”
“Who?”
“Candice and Brooke. They left Sunday.”
It was Thursday.
Ethan had spoken to Candice every night from Minneapolis. She had told him Lucas was attending an overnight robotics program at Ohio State.
He opened the refrigerator.
There was mustard, a carton of spoiled milk, and half a lemon.
“What have you eaten?”
Lucas shrugged.
Ethan turned back and noticed a bruise above his son’s collar. Another dark mark showed near his wrist.
“Roll up your sleeve.”
Lucas pulled his arm against his chest.
“Lucas.”
“It’ll make things worse.”
“For who?”
The answer took too long.
Ethan stepped closer, moving slowly enough not to frighten him. Lucas finally pushed the sleeve above his elbow.
Bruises in different stages of healing covered his upper arm. One had the narrow rectangular shape of a plastic bucket rim.
Ethan’s mouth went dry.
“Did Candice do this?”
Lucas stared at the dirty water.
The memory came out in pieces.
Candice throwing a bucket of customer clothes over his head.
Wear the stink. You’re nothing but unpaid help.
Her blocking the sink when he tried to stand.
Scrub every piece before you touch a chair.
Lucas asking whether he could eat.
Candice pouring the water over him.
Starve, you useless burden.
Ethan reached for his phone.
Lucas seized his wrist.
“She said you gave her permission.”
“To hit you?”
“To make me work until I paid back what I cost.”
Ethan felt the floor shift beneath him.
“What are you supposed to be paying back?”
Lucas pointed toward a stack of unopened envelopes on the highest shelf.
Most were addressed to FreshFold Home Laundry.
One was from the Ohio Department of Taxation.
The name beneath the business title was not Candice Mercer.
May you like
It was Lucas Andrew Mercer.
“She says the business belongs to me,” Lucas whispered.
