Chapter 5: The Police Report From Six Years Ago
“Maya!””
Denise screamed.
Marcus lunged forward and grabbed his daughter before she could climb the first step.
Maya struggled.
“Dad, let go!””
“No!””
“Someone's calling me!””
“I don't care!””
“Dad, it's Grandma!””
Marcus froze.
Denise's expression changed.
“What did you say?””
Maya pointed upstairs.
“Grandma is up there.””
Jordan moved beside them.
“Maya, Grandma died before we moved here.””
“I know!””
“Then who are you hearing?””
Maya started crying.
“She says she misses me.””
Denise covered her mouth.
Their grandmother, Evelyn, had died when Maya was seven. She had been the kind of woman who called every Sunday, sent birthday cards with money inside, and made the children's favorite meals whenever they visited.
Maya had been especially close to her.
But there was one thing Marcus remembered.
Evelyn had never visited their new house.
She had died two months before they moved.
And now something upstairs was using her voice.
Marcus pulled Maya away from the staircase.
“We're going to the basement.””
Denise shook her head.
“Marcus, we need to get outside.””
“The front door isn't safe.””
“Neither is this house!””
“I know. But we need somewhere we can lock ourselves in.””
Jordan grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter.
Marcus immediately turned.
“Put that down.””
“Dad, I'm not going upstairs without something.””
“You won't need it.””
“How do you know?””
Marcus looked at the knife.
Then at the dark staircase.
“Because whatever is upstairs doesn't need to come near us.””
The words sounded terrible as soon as he said them.
Jordan slowly put the knife down.
A sudden buzzing came from the phone.
Marcus looked at the screen.
The call had ended.
A text appeared.
*OFFICER DANIELS: DO NOT TRUST THE PEOPLE IN YOUR HOUSE.*
Marcus frowned.
Another message arrived.
*CHECK THE ORIGINAL INCIDENT REPORT.*
He opened the message.
There was a link to a scanned police document.
The title read:
*RESIDENTIAL FIRE — 1847 WILLOW CREEK DRIVE.*
Their address.
Their house.
Marcus tapped the document.
The first page showed a photograph of the property.
The house was burned badly.
The roof had partially collapsed.
The upstairs windows were shattered.
A red evidence marker stood in the front yard.
Marcus scrolled.
Then he stopped.
The report listed the occupants.
*Marcus Reed — adult male.*
*Denise Reed — adult female.*
*Jordan Reed — male child.*
*Maya Reed — female child.*
Below the names was a section titled:
Survivor Status.
Marcus read the first line.
His hands began shaking.
*No confirmed survivors.*
Denise looked over his shoulder.
“Marcus?””
He scrolled farther.
The report included a statement from a firefighter.
The firefighter described finding the family inside the residence.
The adults had been located near the staircase.
Two children had been found in an upstairs bedroom.
The report then listed the time the fire department had arrived.
9:51 p.m.
Marcus stared at the screen.
“That can't be right.””
Denise stepped closer.
“What?””
He showed her the page.
She shook her head.
“No.””
Jordan grabbed the phone.
“That's fake.””
He scrolled through the document.
“It's probably some website messing with us.””
But the document contained photographs.
The living room.
The staircase.
The upstairs hallway.
Even Maya's bedroom.
Everything looked exactly as it did now.
Except the walls were blackened with smoke.
And the family photographs had melted inside their frames.
Jordan dropped the phone onto the table.
“Why would somebody make this?””
Marcus stared at the report.
“Because it's real.””
Denise stepped backward.
“Marcus, stop.””
He looked at her.
“You knew.””
She shook her head.
“I didn't.””
“You said we never made it to the hotel.””
“I thought you meant the fire.””
“What does that mean?””
Denise's voice trembled.
“I remember waking up here. I remember the children. I remember cooking breakfast, taking them to school, everything.””
Marcus stared at her.
“But the report says—”
“I know what it says!””
Her voice cracked.
“I know!””
Maya looked between them.
“Mommy, are we dead?””
Denise immediately crouched.
“No, sweetheart.””
“But the paper says—”
“Don't listen to it.””
“Then why does it have our names?””
Denise pulled her into a hug.
“Because somebody wants to scare us.””
But her eyes were fixed on the report.
She was no longer convinced.
A loud thump sounded above them.
Then another.
Someone was walking across the master bedroom.
Marcus looked toward the ceiling.
“Stay here.””
He moved to the counter and picked up his phone.
Jordan grabbed his sleeve.
“Where are you going?””
“To find out who Officer Daniels is.””
“Dad, he literally told you not to trust us.””
“I need answers.””
Marcus dialed the number from the message.
It rang twice.
A man answered.
“Daniels.””
“Officer, this is Marcus Reed.””
The man went quiet.
Then he spoke.
“Are you alone?””
Marcus looked at his family.
“Yes.””
“Are you sure?””
Marcus swallowed.
“Yes.””
“Good. Listen carefully. I'm sending you a photograph.””
A second later, an image appeared.
It showed the front porch of their house.
The date was six years earlier.
Two firefighters stood near the entrance.
One was holding a clipboard.
The other was talking to a paramedic.
Marcus zoomed in.
A younger version of himself stood near the porch.
He was wearing the same gray sweatshirt.
But his face was covered in soot.
He was holding a little boy.
Jordan.
The boy's eyes were closed.
Marcus felt his chest tighten.
“Where did you get this?””
“From the original investigation.””
“That's me.””
“I know.””
“What happened to us?””
Officer Daniels exhaled.
“Mr. Reed, I was one of the first responders that night.””
Marcus gripped the counter.
“Then tell me what happened.””
“I remember pulling your son out.””
“What about my daughter?””
The officer paused.
“We found her upstairs.””
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Was she alive?””
Silence.
“Officer?””
“I can't discuss that over the phone.””
“Tell me!””
Daniels lowered his voice.
“Mr. Reed, there is something you need to understand. We never found your wife.””
Marcus stared at Denise.
She was holding Maya.
Jordan stood beside them.
All three were watching him.
“What do you mean you never found her?””
“The fire investigation showed that the master bedroom was empty when we arrived. But there was evidence someone had been inside.””
Marcus's stomach twisted.
“Someone?””
“We found a second set of footprints.””
“Whose?””
Daniels hesitated.
“Yours.””
Marcus looked down at his shoes.
“That's impossible.””
“Not the same shoes, sir. The footprints were found leading from the master bedroom to the staircase. They stopped halfway down.””
Marcus felt cold.
“Why?””
“Because they weren't human footprints.””
The kitchen light flickered.
Marcus looked toward the ceiling.
“Officer, what is happening to my family?””
Daniels spoke slowly.
“I don't know. But I know what happened after the fire.””
“What?””
“For six years, every anniversary of the incident, our department received calls from that address.””
Marcus's throat tightened.
“What kind of calls?””
“Children asking for help.””
“Which children?””
“Your children.””
Marcus looked toward Maya.
She was staring at him.
The officer continued.
“The first call came exactly one year after the fire. A little boy said he was trapped upstairs.””
Jordan's eyes widened.
The second call came two years later.
A little girl asked someone to open the bedroom door.
Then the calls stopped.
Until tonight.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“What did the caller say tonight?””
Daniels took a breath.
“Something different.””
“What?””
“It said, ‘We've brought them home.’”
Marcus looked at his family again.
The little girl beside Denise smiled.
It was a tiny smile.
Almost invisible.
But Marcus saw it.
And then Maya's voice came from the phone.
Not from the kitchen.
From the receiver.
“Officer, don't tell Daddy.””
Marcus froze.
He looked at the girl beside Denise.
Her mouth was closed.
But the voice on the phone continued.
“He doesn't know which one of us came back.””
Marcus dropped the phone.
It hit the floor.
Denise screamed.
Jordan grabbed Maya.
And every light in the house went out.
In the darkness, someone whispered:
May you like
“It's time to choose.””
Then a bedroom door slammed upstairs.
