‘AS THE ROOM WENT DARK, SHE HEARD HER NAME’ Jordan Taylor froze. The TV had been buzzing only seconds earlier, the bright chatter of the news anchors filling the silence of her lonely evening. She’d been curled up with her wine glass, legs tucked beneath her, half-listening to their voices as she flicked through channels for distraction. The room was supposed to feel safe, neutral, sterilized of memory. But nothing could sterilize her thoughts. Then it had happened: a flicker, the anchor’s face seizing mid-sentence, then gone. The television went black. Every light in the safe house cut out. The hum of the fridge, the faint ticking of the digital clock on the microwave — all silenced in an instant. And then, that voice. “Hello, Jordan sweetheart.” Her chest seized. The voice was low, familiar in the worst possible way. For months she had heard it only in her nightmares, echoing from memory. But this was not memory. This was here. Now. Her father. Brian Taylor. Jordan’s knees wobbled as she stood from the couch. Her hand instinctively went to her mouth to stifle the ragged sound trying to escape. The glass of wine slipped from her grip and rolled across the carpet, spilling red into pale Fibers like blood. This couldn’t be real. He was gone. He was supposed to be gone. But no — she remembered the words she’d just heard before the power failed. Words from the news anchor that had barely registered at the time: “Recently arrested criminal Brian Taylor, said to be a danger to women, has been released after pleading not guilty…” Released. The air in Jordan’s lungs turned to stone.