Full part: My husband cooked dinner, and right after my son and I ate, we collapsed Pretending to be unconscious, I heard him on the phone saying, “It’s done… soon they will both be gone.”

Then I helped Noah stand.

His knees buckled once, and I caught him against the refrigerator until he could support himself.

We crossed the kitchen slowly, Noah gripping my wrist while I kept one hand against the counter.

I unlocked the back door.

Headlights suddenly swept across the blinds.

I slammed

“Floor,” I whispered.

He understood immediately.

Noah dropped beside his chair. I lowered myself onto the tile and helped arrange his arm close to the position it had been in before.

Then I flattened my palm beside my face and shut my eyes.

A car  door closed outside.

Keys scraped against the lock.

Noah stopped moving.

So did I.

The back door opened.

Daniel stepped into the  kitchen.

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Type PLATE and I’ll continue.
(I know you’re curious about the next part, so please be patient and read on in the comments below.)