Chapter 2 - I turned slowly.Vanessa was staring at the steel door.
Not me.
The color had drained from her face.
“What did you say?”
She shook her head.
“I didn't.”
“I heard you.”
“You misunderstood.”
“No.”
My voice came out low.
“You said she should be dead.”
Vanessa backed away.
Lily was still holding my shirt.
I put myself between them.
“Tell me what you know.”
“I don't know anything.”
“You recognized her voice.”
“No.”
“You knew someone was behind this wall.”
“No.”
“You told me there was nothing here.”
“I was wrong.”
“Wrong?”
I pointed at the scratches.
“Those scratches don't look like a mistake.”
Vanessa stared at the steel.
Then we heard it again.
BANG.
Three hard strikes.
Claire's voice followed.
“Daniel!”
I grabbed the door.
“Claire!”
“Don't open it!”
Her voice came from the other side.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Claire, it's me.”
“I know.”
“I'm getting you out.”
“No!”
The word came with such terror that I froze.
“Don't unlock the door.”
“Why?”
“Because they will know.”
“Who?”
Silence.
I pressed my forehead against the steel.
“Claire, look at me.”
She gave a weak laugh that sounded almost like a sob.
“I can't.”
“Tell me who put you here.”
Another silence.
Then:
“Vanessa.”
I looked over my shoulder.
Vanessa was gone.
The storage room door was swinging slightly.
She had run.
“Stay here,” I told Lily.
I sprinted into the hallway.
Vanessa was already halfway down the stairs.
“Vanessa!”
She didn't turn.
I chased her.
She reached the foyer, grabbed her coat, and pulled open the front door.
I caught her arm.
She spun around.
“Let me go!”
“Who locked my wife in that wall?”
“I don't know.”
“Claire just said your name.”
“She’s confused.”
“She’s been trapped for eighteen months!”
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“You weren't supposed to find her.”
The sentence landed between us like a gunshot.
I released her.
“What?”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
She had said too much.
I grabbed my phone and called the police.
Vanessa looked at the screen.
“No.”
“You're staying here.”
She turned and ran again.
I let her go.
Not because I trusted her.
Because Claire was still behind the wall.
I called emergency services and returned to the storage room.
Lily was kneeling beside the steel door.
She had her ear pressed against it.
“Mom?”
A faint whisper answered.
“Lily?”
My daughter gasped.
“Mom!”
I dropped beside her.
“Claire, it's Lily.”
There was a long silence.
Then Claire whispered:
“I knew you'd find me.”
“Claire, I'm getting this door open.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Listen to me.”
Her breathing was ragged.
“They don't know you found me yet.”
“Who?”
“You have to leave the house.”
I looked at Lily.
“I'm not leaving you here.”
“Not with me.”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean leave with Lily.”
“And leave you trapped?”
“Daniel, please.”
There was something in her voice I couldn't understand.
Fear.
Not fear of being imprisoned.
Fear of what would happen if I opened the door.
“I've been waiting for you,” she whispered.
“Then let me in.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
Claire started crying.
Not loudly.
Just one broken breath after another.
Then she whispered:
“Because there's someone else in here.”
Everything inside me went still.
“Who?”
Claire didn't answer.
“Claire?”
A second voice spoke from behind her.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Close.
“Hello, Daniel.”
I froze.
I knew that voice too.
But I couldn't place it.
Claire screamed.
“RUN!”
The line of sound suddenly exploded into pounding.
Then the steel door shook.
I grabbed Lily and pulled her away.
A loud crash came from the hallway.
Someone had entered the house.
Police lights flashed across the windows.
I looked toward the foyer.
Two officers rushed inside.
I shouted, “My wife is trapped behind the wall!”
One officer stared at the steel door.
The other pulled me aside.
“Sir, step away.”
“There’s someone else in there.”
“What?”
“My wife said there's someone else.”
The officer exchanged a glance with his partner.
Then he asked:
“When was the last time you heard from your wife?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
He stared at me.
“Are you certain she's your wife?”
I nearly laughed.
“What kind of question is that?”
He didn't answer.
He walked toward the wall.
Then he crouched.
There were fresh footprints in the dust.
They led from the steel door…
…across the room…
…and stopped directly behind Vanessa's old cleaning cabinet.
The officer looked at me.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“Did anyone else live in this house after your wife disappeared?”
I stared at the cabinet.
“No.”
He slowly opened its drawer.
Inside was a small black notebook.
And taped to the first page was a photograph.
A photograph of my wife.
Taken three days before she disappeared.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
SHE FOUND THE FIRST ROOM.
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