The Traitors Under My Roof

Summary

The door wasn't locked.

I stood on my own welcome mat, my suitcase heavy in my hand, the keys still buried somewhere in my purse.

The door was cracked open. Just an inch.

The living room lights were on. On the coffee table sat a half-empty glass of water, a ring of milky residue clinging to the rim.

I had been out of state for three months. This house was supposed to be empty.

From the direction of the master bedroom, a cry broke the silence.

A baby’s cry.

I didn't have a child.