to really cry anymore, he knocked, footsteps inside, light, tentative. Who is it? A woman’s voice high with fear. My name is Ethan Mercer. I received a text message meant for someone named Evelyn. A message asking for help. Silence.
I’m not here to hurt you. I brought the formula. Please open the door. Seconds ticked by. Then the deadbolt clicked. The door opened 3 in. Stopped by a chain lock. Through the gap, Ethan saw a face, young but tired, auburn hair and a messy ponytail, eyes red rimmed.
