Free Over by Stacy Claflin Page A

go somewhere for a little bit."
    "In the light?"
    "Don't speak unless spoken to. Keep an eye on your mom. She's sleeping now, but she'll probably need something when she wakes. Also, I want you to clean the living room next."
    Macy sighed, forcing herself to stay silent. She was exhausted. She'd been deep cleaning for hours and wanted a break. Her body ached, especially where her leg had been injured.
    "Is there a problem?"
    "No."
    "Good. Get to work and don't forget to check on your true mom. And if I'm not home, do you know when to start dinner?"
    "Yes."
    "Okay. Get to work." He turned around and walked toward the front door. Macy could hear him punching in the code for the alarm. He was making a production of it to get the point across. They both knew the threat of the barn was as real as it always had been.
    Macy looked over at the living room in disgust. How could he expect her to keep deep cleaning without a break? He had barely given her any time to scarf down the lunch she made everyone.
    Sweat ran down her forehead and she wiped it with the back of her hand, finding it stuck to her hair. She probably looked horrible, not that it mattered. She grabbed the rags from around the room and took them to the laundry, starting another load.
    She grabbed some more supplies and went into the hall. Something caught her eye. Macy stared down the hall, trying to figure out what was out of place.
    Then she saw it. The door to Chester's study wasn't closed all the way. Was it a trap, or had he let his guard down? She went back to the dining room and looked around for him. He appeared to still be gone. She had heard his car leave the garage, and the fact that he had left while it was still light showed that something was wrong.
    Maybe he had left the door open accidentally. Macy looked into their bedroom and saw Rebekah sleeping.
    Macy appeared to be in the clear. She took a deep breath, dropping the rags onto the floor. Her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest.
    Who knew if she would find anything? But the way he kept it locked up all the time, there was no way she could just leave the room alone. If she walked in and found a camera pointed at her, she could later say that she had been making sure everything was okay since he always leaves the door closed.
    She pushed the door open ever so slowly. It creaked slightly, but opened easily enough. Holding her breath, she walked in, not knowing what to expect. She half-expected to see pictures and graphs all over the walls, like she always saw on TV when murderers were stalking someone.
    It just looked like a regular home office, though. There was a desk piled with papers. A laptop sat there, screen off. A floor-to-ceiling shelf held books and knick knacks. Papers were scattered on the floor underneath a window with drawn shades.
    Macy scanned the room, looking for a hidden camera, but didn't see anything. She knew if there was anything recording her, if she took a step into the room, that would be all it would take for her to end up locked away somewhere. Maybe for good.
    She walked over to the desk and looked at the piles of papers without touching anything. The laptop seemed to call her, but she was certain if she got online, he would know. But what if she just looked at some files? Would he know that?
    It wasn't a risk Macy was willing to take. She could pick up some papers and he wouldn't know, but he probably had ways he was monitoring his computer.
    A crashing noise startled her. Macy jumped and ran to the doorway, looking down the hall. She didn't see anything. Going down to Chester's bedroom, she checked on Rebekah and saw her lunch tray on the floor. She must have rolled over and knocked it down. How had it not woken her?
    Macy went over and checked on her breathing and then picked up the mess from the floor. She brought the tray back out to the kitchen and then returned to Chester's study. She looked at the papers sitting on his desk, memorizing their