Chapter 3 - The Door Below the HouseVanessa didn't move.
The steel door stood three inches open.
Cold air spilled through the gap, carrying the smell of wet stone and something faintly sweet, like old perfume.
I looked at my wife.
“What do you mean, you already went in there?”
Vanessa's lips parted.
“I was nineteen.”
“You said you didn't understand what was happening.”
“I didn't.”
“Then why did you go inside?”
She stared at the darkness.
“Because Marcus told me my daughter was in there.”
Harris stepped between us.
“Stay back.”
He pushed the door open with the barrel of his weapon.
The hinges groaned.
The room beyond was larger than I'd expected.
His flashlight cut through the darkness in narrow pieces.
A table.
Two wooden chairs.
A rusted sink.
Shelves lined with glass jars and old cardboard boxes.
At the far end, a second doorway.
No people.
No movement.
Then I heard something.
A soft humming.
A child's tune.
Nora grabbed my hand.
“That’s her.”
“Evelyn?” I asked.
Nora nodded.
Harris scanned the room.
“Who's humming?”
Nora pointed toward the second doorway.
“She always hums when she's scared.”
Vanessa whispered, “Evelyn used to do that.”
I looked at her.
“You knew her.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Not like you think.”
“Then tell me.”
She couldn't.
Harris motioned to the second officer.
“Check the back room.”
The officer disappeared through the doorway.
A second later, he called out.
“Detective.”
We followed.
The back room was barely large enough for three people.
There was a narrow bed against one wall.
Blankets.
Children's clothes.
A plastic cup.
And hundreds of marks scratched into the plaster.
Four lines.
Then a fifth crossing them.
Over and over.
Like someone had been counting days.
I stepped closer.
“How long was someone kept here?”
Harris ran his flashlight over the wall.
“Long enough to lose count.”
Nora touched one of the drawings.
A yellow house.
Four stick figures stood outside it.
One was much smaller than the others.
She whispered, “That's me.”
I looked at the drawing.
“What is the little girl doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For who?”
“For Mommy.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Harris found a pile of papers beneath the bed.
Medical records.
School forms.
Birth certificates.
The dates were scattered across years.
Different children.
Different names.
But one thing was the same.
Most of the mothers had signed something giving up custody.
I picked up one folder.
The mother's signature had been written in blue ink.
At the bottom of the page was another signature.
Vanessa Carter.
My stomach tightened.
I held it up.
“You signed this.”
Vanessa stared at the page.
“I was nineteen.”
“You said you didn't know what Marcus was doing.”
“I didn't.”
“Then why is your name on a custody transfer?”
She walked toward me.
“Because they told me it was temporary.”
“For how many children?”
“I don't know.”
“Guess.”
She closed her eyes.
“Six.”
The word echoed through the room.
Harris looked at her.
“Six?”
Vanessa nodded.
“I signed six.”
“And all six disappeared?”
“I thought their parents took them back.”
“You never checked?”
“I was afraid to.”
I dropped the folder onto the table.
“You let yourself believe six children simply vanished?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I was a teenager being threatened by people I couldn't fight.”
“People like Marcus?”
“And my father.”
I stopped.
“Your father?”
“He knew.”
Harris's radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“Detective Harris, we've got movement outside.”
Harris touched the radio.
“How many?”
“Two vehicles.”
Claire turned toward me.
“We have to go.”
Harris shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Claire looked at him.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand that I'm responsible for everyone in this house.”
“No.”
She pointed at the ceiling.
“They aren't outside for everyone.”
The radio crackled again.
“Detective, one vehicle is heading around back.”
Harris cursed under his breath.
“Everybody upstairs. Now.”
We rushed toward the corridor.
Halfway up the stairs, Nora stopped.
“I forgot something.”
I turned.
“What?”
“My picture.”
“What picture?”
“The one Mommy gave me.”
She ran back down.
Vanessa followed.
“Nora!”
The basement lights flickered.
I heard something slam.
Then Nora screamed.
I ran down.
“Nora!”
The room was empty.
Vanessa was on the floor beside the steel door.
“Nora!”
“She ran through there!”
Vanessa pointed to the second doorway.
I rushed through.
Nothing.
Only another narrow passage.
At the end was a small wooden door.
It was open.
Nora's voice echoed somewhere beyond it.
“Daddy!”
I sprinted forward.
The passage turned left.
Then right.
The walls were lined with old pipes.
Someone had built a maze beneath the house.
I heard footsteps ahead.
“Nora!”
“Daddy!”
I turned another corner and nearly collided with her.
She crashed into me.
I grabbed her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded against my chest.
“I found her.”
“Found who?”
She pointed behind me.
“The lady.”
I slowly turned.
At the far end of the passage stood a woman.
Dark coat.
Blue ring.
Claire.
Except it wasn't Claire.
She looked older.
Her hair was gray.
Her face was scarred along one cheek.
And for one impossible second, I thought I was looking at my mother.
The woman smiled.
“Hello, Ryan.”
Nora buried her face against me.
I took a step backward.
“Who are you?”
“Someone your father knew.”
“Where's my daughter?”
The woman looked at Nora.
“I've never hurt her.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“Because your father left something for you.”
She reached inside her coat.
Harris appeared behind me.
“Drop whatever you're holding.”
The woman smiled.
“You're too late.”
A gunshot exploded.
The sound shook the corridor.
I ducked.
The woman disappeared through a side door.
Harris fired back.
“Move!”
He pushed us toward the stairs.
We ran.
When we reached the main basement room, Vanessa was standing.
She looked at the wall.
Her face had gone completely white.
“What?”
She pointed.
There was blood on the floor.
Not much.
But enough.
And beside it lay a child's yellow sweater.
Nora stared at it.
“That isn't mine.”
Harris knelt.
He touched the blood with a gloved finger.
“It's fresh.”
Claire came down the stairs.
She saw the sweater.
Her expression collapsed.
“Evelyn.”
I looked at her.
“You know where she is?”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why did you say her name?”
“Because I've seen that sweater before.”
“Where?”
Claire stared at Vanessa.
“On Lily.”
Vanessa's knees almost gave out.
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“What's going on?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Don't.”
I stepped closer.
“You've lied to me all night.”
“I didn't lie.”
“You just said Lily wasn't here.”
“I said I didn't know.”
“And now Claire says she wore this.”
Claire moved toward us.
“There's something you need to understand.”
The gunshot had left dust falling from the ceiling.
Harris was checking the corridor.
I barely noticed.
“What?”
“Evelyn isn't a person.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She was the name Marcus gave a room.”
My stomach dropped.
“What room?”
“The room where he kept the children before moving them.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No. Evelyn was real.”
Claire looked at her.
“Yes.”
She pointed to the scratched name on the steel door.
“She was the first girl.”
I swallowed.
“Who was she?”
Claire's voice became quieter.
“A seven-year-old whose parents refused to sign the custody papers.”
“What happened?”
“Marcus used her to frighten them.”
Vanessa whispered, “He locked her here.”
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
I looked around the room.
“And then?”
“She disappeared.”
“Disappeared how?”
Claire didn't answer.
Harris came back.
“We have a problem.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The vehicles outside are gone.”
“Gone?”
“They never entered the property.”
I frowned.
“Then why did your officers report them?”
He shook his head.
“They didn't.”
“What?”
Harris pulled out his radio.
“No one called us.”
Cold spread through my chest.
Someone had been controlling the communications.
Claire stared at the stairs.
“They wanted us downstairs.”
“Why?”
“So they could search the house.”
“What are they looking for?”
She looked at me.
“The ledger.”
“We already found it.”
“No.”
Her face tightened.
“That wasn't the real ledger.”
I stared.
“You're saying the one we found is fake?”
“Yes.”
“Then where is the real one?”
She pointed at the wall.
My heart sank.
“Inside the wall?”
Claire nodded.
“Behind your bedroom.”
We hurried upstairs.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
The bedroom door stood open.
The wall panel was still hanging loose.
I stepped inside.
Nothing had changed.
Then I noticed the bed.
One of the legs had been moved.
A strip of carpet was folded back.
Underneath it was a trapdoor.
I looked at Vanessa.
“You knew about this too?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I pulled it open.
Inside was a black metal box.
No lock.
No dust.
It looked newly placed.
My hands trembled as I lifted the lid.
Inside was a ledger.
Thick.
Black.
And on the first page were three names.
Marcus Hale.
Graham Vale.
Claire Carter.
I looked at my sister.
“Why is your name here?”
Claire didn't answer.
I turned the page.
There was another name.
Mine.
Under it was a handwritten date.
THE NIGHT RYAN REMEMBERS.
May you like
Then, beneath that, one final line:
HE WILL REMEMBER WHO REALLY PUT THE BABY IN THE WALL.
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