Free Altered by Jennifer Rush

Cas probably hadn’t seen the real thing, since the boys had never been allowed out of their rooms.
    I snatched the frame from the wall and inspected the back. It was sealed on all sides.
    Cas gestured at the end table. “Smash it.”
    “But…” I wasn’t sure what stopped me. There was no one here, and this was clearly a clue. But breaking something that wasn’t mine seemed wrong.
    “Fine.” Cas grabbed the painting. “I’ll do it.”
    With one swift move, he whacked the frame against the edge of the table and the glass shattered. The picture slid out, and with it a note. The crisp half sheet of paper fluttered toward the floor and I plucked it from the air as the others clustered behind us.
    “What happened?” Trev asked. “We shouldn’t touch anything, just in case.”
    “Anna found something.” Cas nudged me, like we were teammates who’d scored a goal together. “So, what’s it say?”
    I ran my eyes over the note and gasped.

9
    A FEW HOURS EARLIER, I’D RUN MY fingers over the familiar words written by my mother in her journal. Here, now, were new words, foreign words that I hadn’t memorized but were eerily similar. It looked like her handwriting.
    “Anna?” The look Sam gave me—pinched brow, pursed lips—said he knew something was wrong. So I started reading aloud, purposefully dodging the questions before he had a chance to ask them.
    “ ‘Sam, if you’re reading this, it means I’m not there to give you the message myself. And if I’m not there, that must mean I’m either dead or I had to leave in a hurry.
    “ ‘Since I am not there, I will give you the key you gave me. You’ll need a UV light. There’s one in the kitchen. First drawer on the right.’ ”
    I met Sam’s eyes. “That’s it.”
    As he reached for the note, a car turned into the driveway, the glare of its headlights shining through the front window curtains, illuminating us. There was a split second when no one moved. And then everyone moved but me.
    A car door shut. “Mrs. Tucker?” someone called. “You home?”
    I hurried after Sam, keeping my steps light, silent.
    A knock sounded on the door. “Mrs. Tucker? Chancy said you didn’t show for tonight’s potluck.”
    I poked my head into the kitchen. Sam hid inside the laundry room doorway, the overturned chair now in his hands, hoisted over his shoulder. Blood rushed through my ears as the back door creaked open.
    I caught movement inside the bathroom. Nick, crouching, ready to strike. My mouth went dry.
    “Mrs. Tucker? You in here?” the man said, his voice now on edge. He made slow progress through the laundry room, up the one step to the kitchen, and then: “Hands up!”
    Sam swung the chair. It exploded when it hit the man, slivers plinking against the floor. A gun smacked against the countertop, then dropped to the floor. It wasn’t Sam’s. It was the man’s gun—the cop’s gun.
    The cop sank to his knees. Blood ran from the split flesh on his forehead. He scrambled for the gun, now lying four feet behind him, as Nick stepped out of the bathroom brandishing a metal wastebasket.He positioned it low to the ground, cocked back like a golf club, aiming for the cop’s head.
    “Stop!”
    Nick froze mid-stride and frowned at me.
    “He’s a cop,” I blurted. Like that somehow explained it.
    “So?”
    The man spat blood onto the floor, then wiped the excess from the corner of his mouth.
    “He’s innocent.”
    “We don’t know that,” Nick countered.
    Cas popped up behind me. “Clear outside,” he said, and Sam gave a definitive nod. Where was Trev?
    “Trust no one,” Nick argued, still holding the wastebasket like a weapon. A lock of hair fell across his forehead.
    Sam grabbed the cop by the collar of his jacket and hauled the man to his feet. He slammed him into the fridge, pinning him in place. The man grimaced.
    “What are you doing here?” Sam bit the words out.
    “I came to check on Mrs. Tucker.”
    “Why?”
    “She didn’t