Chapter 5 - The Room Beneath the House
I tore the basement door open.
Dust exploded into the hallway.
Mason grabbed my shoulder.
“Wait.”
I shook him off.
“You heard him.”
“I heard something.”
“My grandfather.”
“Hannah, he's been missing for six months.”
“I know.”
We descended the stairs.
The basement smelled of wet earth.
Boxes lined the walls.
Old jars.
Broken tools.
Nothing else.
Then Evelyn pointed toward the far wall.
“There.”
A hairline crack ran vertically through the concrete.
Mason pressed his flashlight against it.
The wall had been recently repaired.
We found a loose brick.
Behind it was a metal latch.
Mason pulled.
The wall opened inward.
A narrow stairwell disappeared beneath the house.
The same cold air as the tunnel.
We went down.
At the bottom was a room.
A real one.
A bed.
A water barrel.
A stove.
Blankets.
Medical supplies.
And photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Sarah.
My grandfather.
Evelyn.
And a little girl.
Me.
I walked closer.
The photograph had been taken when I was six.
I was standing beside Grandpa.
Sarah was behind the camera.
I recognized the dress immediately.
My grandmother had worn it when I was a child.
I touched the picture.
“How?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Sarah was here.”
“When?”
“After midnight.”
“She watched me?”
“She watched you grow up.”
I felt sick.
“Why didn't she come home?”
“Because she was afraid Robert would find her.”
I turned.
“Then why did Grandpa let him believe she was dead?”
“He was protecting everyone.”
“That's not protection.”
“No,” Evelyn said.
“It was survival.”
Mason opened one of the drawers.
Inside were cassette tapes.
Each had a date.
And six months ago.
He picked up the newest tape.
A handwritten label read:
HANNAH. DO NOT PLAY ALONE.
I took it.
“I'm playing it.”
Mason looked at Evelyn.
She nodded.
I found an old recorder.
Pressed play.
Static.
Then Grandpa's voice.
“Hannah, if you're hearing this, I am probably dead.”
I closed my eyes.
“If I'm alive, they have found me.”
He continued.
“Everything I told your mother about Sarah was a lie.”
The tape hissed.
“Sarah did not disappear because of the flood.”
My hands tightened around the recorder.
“She disappeared because Robert tried to kill her.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Grandpa continued.
“Your uncle was seventeen when he learned about Redwood's underground dumping operation. He took money to keep quiet.”
Mason whispered, “Seventeen?”
“Yes,” Grandpa said on the recording, as if he could hear us.
“He didn't understand what he was helping them cover.”
The tape skipped.
“Then Sarah saw the barrels.”
“She saw the men.”
“She saw Robert.”
I looked at Evelyn.
Grandpa's voice dropped.
“I made the mistake of believing Robert could be redeemed.”
A long silence followed.
“Then Sarah vanished.”
The recording clicked.
A second voice appeared.
Female.
Soft.
Shaking.
“Henry, if this reaches Hannah, tell her I never abandoned her.”
I stopped the tape.
I stared at Evelyn.
“That was Sarah.”
She nodded.
“My mother.”
“She was alive six months ago.”
Evelyn whispered.
“Yes.”
“Where is she now?”
Evelyn looked terrified.
“We don't know.”
Mason turned toward the stairs.
“What?”
She raised a finger.
Listen.
Footsteps.
Someone was walking above us.
Slow.
Heavy.
Then the basement door slammed.
Mason rushed upstairs.
A second later we heard him shout.
“Hannah! Stay down!”
A gunshot.
I dropped to the floor.
Evelyn pulled me behind the stone foundation.
Another gunshot.
Then silence.
Mason came stumbling down the stairs.
Blood ran along his forehead.
“Someone locked the house from outside.”
“Robert?”
“I don't know.”
He handed me something.
A small silver necklace.
There was blood on it.
And engraved on the back were three letters.
S.W.
Sarah Walker.
Evelyn stared at it.
“No.”
“What?”
She began crying.
“That necklace was buried with Sarah twenty-seven years ago.”
The lights went out.
May you like
Somewhere above us, the front door opened.
And a man calmly walked into my grandfather's house.
