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The attic ladder sat only a few feet away.
Below, I heard Caleb climbing the stairs.
I froze.
One step.
Another.
Another.
His bedroom door opened.
“Emily?”
My heart hammered.
He looked inside.
The bed was empty.
Silence.
Then…
“Emily?”
His voice sounded confused.
I held perfectly still.
He checked the bathroom.
Nothing.
I heard drawers opening downstairs.
He was searching.
Mara whispered urgently.
“Leave through the attic window.”
“There isn’t one.”
“There is.”
“North side.”
I crawled through darkness until my fingers found a small wooden panel.
It stuck.
I pushed harder.
Finally, it swung open.
Cold rain hit my face.
Outside, the roof sloped steeply toward the backyard.
“I’m on the roof.”
“Good.”
“What now?”
“Climb down.”
“I’ll fall.”
“You won’t.”
Just then…
Blue lights flashed across neighboring houses.
Police.
Several unmarked SUVs rolled quietly onto the street.
Men and women wearing tactical jackets exited without sirens.
One looked directly toward me.
He placed a finger over his lips.
Stay quiet.
Then chaos erupted.
“Federal agents!”
“Search warrant!”
The front door burst open.
Caleb shouted downstairs.
“What is this?”
“Hands where we can see them!”
Furniture crashed.
Voices echoed through the house.
I remained frozen on the roof.
An agent climbed a ladder toward me.
“Mrs. Morrison?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Special Agent Collins.”
He offered his hand.
“You’re safe.”
The words made every ounce of strength leave my body.
By sunrise, I sat wrapped in a blanket inside a mobile command vehicle.
An investigator placed photographs across the table.
Dozens of families.
Smiling children.
Parents.
Grandparents.
Every picture had one thing in common.
“They all disappeared?”
The agent nodded.
“On paper.”
“What does that mean?”
“Their identities.”
“Not the people?”
“No.”
He sighed.
“They stole retirement accounts.”
Insurance policies.
Property titles.
Investment portfolios.
Everything connected to someone’s legal identity.
Victims spent years trying to prove who they really were.
Some never recovered financially.
“And Caleb?”
“He recruited targets.”
My stomach turned.
“No.”
“We’ve tracked him for almost a year.”