Chapter 1 - The Boy Beside the Dog Bowl
The wooden cane cracked against Jordan Reed's back before he had time to protect himself.
The ten-year-old stumbled forward, caught the edge of the living room rug with his shoe, and fell hard onto his knees.
Beside him sat a stainless-steel bowl filled with dog food.
For a moment, he couldn't draw a full breath. Then the pain spread across his back, hot and sharp, and tears spilled down his cheeks.
"Please, Patrice," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you mad."
His stepmother stood above him in an expensive cream-colored dress, gripping the wooden cane so tightly that her knuckles showed through her polished brown skin.
"Didn't mean to?" she repeated.
She gave a short, humorless laugh.
"You never mean to do anything, Jordan. But somehow, you're always causing trouble."
Jordan tried to push himself upright.
Patrice lowered the cane horizontally in front of his chest.
"Did I tell you to stand?"
He froze.
"Stay down."
The Reed family's Atlanta home was the kind of place visitors admired before they even stepped inside. Tall windows overlooked a carefully landscaped garden. Framed artwork covered the walls. The marble fireplace had been imported from Italy.
Yet Jordan sat crying on the floor of that beautiful living room, too frightened to stand.
Patrice pointed at the metal bowl.
"Maybe you'll finally learn some respect if you spend a little time where you belong."
Jordan shook his head.
"Please don't make me stay here."
"Then stop talking."
At the kitchen doorway, Darlene Carter stood motionless.
At sixty-three, Darlene had spent almost twelve years working for the Reed family. She had watched Jordan learn to walk, helped him through his first spelling tests, and held him when his mother died four years earlier.
She knew his frightened voice.
What she had just witnessed was no ordinary punishment.
Patrice had deliberately struck the child.
Darlene took a step forward.
"Mrs. Reed, that's enough."
Patrice turned toward her.
"This is a family matter, Darlene. Go back to the kitchen."
"He's hurt."
"Then he should have thought about that before disrespecting me."
Jordan glanced at Darlene.
There was something in his expression she would remember long afterward.
He wasn't asking her to punish Patrice.
He was asking whether anybody was going to help him.
Darlene's gaze moved toward the small black security camera mounted near the ceiling above the kitchen entrance.
Its indicator light was dark.
She looked lower and noticed the power cord hanging loose from the accessible connector along the doorframe.
Someone had disconnected it.
For months, Malcolm Reed had believed the home's security cameras were monitoring the common rooms whenever he was working.
The living room camera was supposed to be among them.
Darlene understood what the disconnected cable might mean.
She could argue with Patrice while the woman still held a cane over Jordan.
Or she could make sure someone else saw what was happening.
Slowly, keeping her body between the doorway and the cable, she reached toward the connector.
Her fingers closed around the plug.
Behind her, Patrice continued.
"Your father works too hard to come home and deal with your nonsense. Do you understand how ungrateful you are?"
Jordan stared at the rug.
"Yes, ma'am."
Darlene pressed the plug firmly into the wall-mounted power connection.
The small red indicator on the black camera flickered.
Then it remained steadily illuminated.
Upstairs, Malcolm Reed sat in his office reviewing a presentation for the following morning.
A security-monitoring window was open on his second computer screen.
When the living room camera reconnected, its live image returned.
Malcolm glanced at it almost absentmindedly.
Then he stopped moving.
His son was kneeling beside the dog's food bowl.
Patrice stood over him with a wooden cane.
Jordan's shoulders shook as he cried.
Malcolm leaned closer, unable to understand what he was seeing.
On the screen, Patrice lowered the cane toward Jordan again, blocking him as he tried to rise.
Malcolm shoved his chair backward.
"Jordan?"
His voice came out as a whisper.
Then he was running.
Across the upstairs landing.
Down the staircase.
Through the long hallway toward the living room.
Patrice heard the footsteps first.
Her confident expression vanished.
The cane stopped moving.
May you like
Jordan turned toward the sound.
And the living room door flew open.
