Chapter 7 - The House That RememberedAdrian Vale had retired eight months ago.
Officially.
Unofficially, he had disappeared.
His home had been searched.
Nothing.
No files.
No computer.
No family photographs.
No phone.
He had erased his life.
Cole and I drove to his old property under police escort.
The house was abandoned.
Windows boarded.
Grass growing through the driveway.
The place smelled like wet earth.
We entered through the back.
The first floor was empty.
Second floor.
Empty.
Basement.
Locked.
The lock was newer than the door.
Cole broke it.
Inside was a room that looked nothing like the rest of the house.
Banks of monitors covered one wall.
Hundreds of feeds.
Homes.
Bedrooms.
Nurseries.
Backyards.
People sleeping.
I stepped closer.
One screen showed Emma.
Live.
She was at home with my sister.
Another showed my front door.
Another showed the hallway.
Another showed the laundry room.
I turned toward Cole.
“They're watching us right now.”
He called the officers.
Someone suddenly spoke through the speakers.
“Detective Cole.”
We froze.
A distorted male voice.
“You were told to stop.”
Cole aimed his weapon at the monitors.
“Come out.”
A laugh.
“You always thought the camera was the weapon.”
“What is this?”
“A record.”
“Of what?”
“People.”
“You're under arrest.”
“No.”
A monitor flickered.
A video began.
Lily Harris.
Then Claire.
Then Emma.
Different years.
Different homes.
Same camera angle.
All three girls looked at the lens at some point.
The voice said:
“Children are honest.”
“Adults are not.”
“What do you want?”
“I want the truth.”
“About what?”
“About Claire.”
The screen changed.
A hospital room.
Claire.
Bandages.
Alive.
I stepped forward.
“No.”
She was breathing.
A woman entered.
Blue coat.
Claire looked terrified.
The voice continued.
“She wasn't supposed to survive.”
I felt dizzy.
“What happened?”
“Your wife found the wrong people.”
“Who?”
“They found her.”
The screen went black.
Then a new recording appeared.
Claire looked directly into the camera.
“Daniel, if you ever see this…”
She swallowed.
“Don't trust Vanessa.”
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Cole.
But the recording wasn't finished.
Claire continued.
“She was forced to help them.”
The screen glitched.
“She wasn't the one who put the camera in your house.”
Another glitch.
“But she knew it was there.”
I clenched my jaw.
Then Claire whispered:
“And she knows where Emma's mother really is.”
The screen died.
I stared at Cole.
“Emma's mother?”
“Claire is Emma's mother.”
“I know.”
“Then why did she say it like that?”
Before he could answer, footsteps echoed overhead.
Someone was inside the house.
Cole signaled the officers.
We moved upstairs.
A shadow crossed the hallway.
Then disappeared.
The front door slammed.
We ran outside.
A black SUV sped away.
One officer fired a warning shot.
The vehicle vanished around the corner.
Cole stared after it.
“Plate?”
“Covered.”
He swore.
We returned downstairs.
One monitor was still on.
It displayed a file name.
HARRIS_FINAL_WITNESS
Cole opened it.
Lily Harris appeared.
She was older than in the first videos.
Maybe six.
She looked directly into the camera.
“Daddy said there was a secret door.”
The video cut.
Another clip.
Lily whispered:
“Claire put something behind the mirror.”
The video ended.
Cole turned to me.
“Your house.”
“What?”
“Does your bedroom have a mirror?”
“Yes.”
“Anything behind it?”
“I don't know.”
We drove back.
I tore the mirror from the wall.
Behind it was a small cavity.
Inside sat a notebook.
Claire's handwriting.
Hundreds of pages.
Names.
Dates.
Addresses.
Payments.
Photographs.
And on the final page:
IF EMMA EVER SAYS “MONSTER,” LOOK UNDER THE FLOOR.
I read the sentence twice.
Emma had said it.
The floor.
Cole looked toward the laundry room.
Then the lights went out.
Every light in the house.
Complete darkness.
Emma screamed from upstairs.
I heard footsteps below us.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming up the stairs.
Then a man's voice whispered from the darkness:
“Daniel.”
May you like
It was my brother’s voice.
My brother had been dead for six years.
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