“Your uncle?”
“No.”
“Does your mommy know you’re here?”
Lily’s face crumpled.
“Mommy can’t come.”
Cold spread through me.
“Why can’t she come?”
The twins looked at each other.
Then Lucy whispered the most terrifying thing I had ever heard.
“Because Grant locked her downstairs.”
For several seconds, I could only stare.
“Grant locked your mommy downstairs?” I repeated.
Lily nodded.
“She told us to be quiet.”
Every instinct told me to call police immediately, but I remembered Lily’s panic when I reached for my phone.
I held my hand out beneath the table.
“Listen to me. Police do not take good girls away for asking for help. Grant lied to you.”
Lily studied me.
“Really?”
“Really.”
I waited until she gave a tiny nod.
Then I stepped into the pantry, leaving the door cracked so I could still see them, and called 911.
I quietly explained that two three-year-old girls from next door were inside my home and claimed their mother had been locked downstairs.
The dispatcher told me to stay inside, lock every door, and not confront Grant.
I had just ended the call when someone struck my front door again.
This time, Grant didn’t knock.
He slammed his fist against it.
“Carla!”
My blood went cold.
I had never told him my name.
“Open the door.”
The girls crawled farther beneath the table.
“How do you know my name?” I called.
He didn’t answer.
Then the doorknob turned.
“Those girls belong with me,” he said. “You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“They told me they’re afraid of you.”
“They’re three. They don’t know what they’re saying.”
“They knew enough to hide.”
His tone sharpened.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
A moment later, footsteps moved away from the porch.
I hurried to the side window.
Grant was crossing my lawn toward the backyard gate.
I locked the kitchen door moments before he reached it.
He grabbed the handle and shook it.
Lucy screamed.
His face went completely still behind the glass.
“So, they are in there.”
I said nothing.
“Open this door, Carla.”
“Police are coming.”
The color disappeared from his face.
He released the handle and ran toward his house.
Within minutes, sirens sounded at the end of the street.
Officers came to my house first.
I told them everything while a female officer named Dana sat on the kitchen floor with Lily and Lucy.
When Dana asked where their mother was, Lily pointed toward the wall shared with the neighboring property.
“Down,” she said.
Police entered Grant’s house.
I remained with the twins, but every second dragged.
About 15 minutes later, two officers came outside with Grant in handcuffs.
Behind them, another officer supported a woman.
I recognized her instantly.
The woman from the driveway.
Her hair was tangled, and her face looked pale.
The moment she saw Lily and Lucy through my doorway, she pulled away from the officer.
“My babies!”
