Chapter 2
Nobody moved.
The basement suddenly felt too small for all four of us.
I kept staring at the photograph.
Daniel looked younger in it.
His hair was shorter.
He wore the gray jacket I remembered from years ago.
Linda stood beside him with one hand on his shoulder.
They were both looking at the camera.
They were smiling.
Not strangers passing each other at some event.
Not two people who had accidentally ended up in the same photograph.
They knew each other.
“Daniel.”
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
He looked at me.
“Sarah, I can explain.”
Linda laughed through her tears.
“No, you can’t.”
Daniel’s head snapped toward her.
“Shut up.”
I felt Noah tighten his grip around my waist.
That single sentence from Daniel scared me more than the photograph.
I had been married to him for eleven years.
I knew the tone he used when he was angry.
I knew the one he used when he was afraid.
This was fear.
“Mom,” Noah whispered.
I looked down.
“I want to go upstairs.”
I wanted him away from Linda.
Away from the basement.
Away from whatever was about to happen.
I took him upstairs, helped him wash the food from his hair, and gave him one of Daniel’s old T-shirts.
His hands still shook.
I sat beside him on the edge of his bed.
“Noah, I need you to tell me everything Linda did.”
He stared at the floor.
“Will Dad get mad?”
“Not at you.”
“He might.”
“Why would Dad be mad?”
Noah swallowed.
“Because she said he would be.”
My chest tightened.
“What exactly did she say?”
Noah glanced toward the hallway.
“She said Dad had secrets.”
I tried not to react.
“What secrets?”
“She never told me.”
“Did she hurt you?”
He hesitated.
That pause nearly broke me.
“She yelled a lot.”
“What else?”
“She made me sit in the basement.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Minutes? Hours?”
“Sometimes until it got dark.”
I closed my eyes.
There had been evenings when Daniel and I came home after six.
Linda always had dinner prepared.
Noah always seemed quiet.
We thought he was tired.
We thought school was exhausting him.
I remembered asking once why his homework looked unfinished.
Linda had smiled and said Noah had been distracted.
I had believed her.
“Did she lock the door?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“She asked me questions.”
I forced myself to stay calm.
“What questions?”
“About Dad.”
My stomach twisted.
“What about him?”
“She wanted to know where he worked.”
“She knew where he worked.”
“She wanted to know if he went anywhere after work.”
I stared at my son.
“What else?”
“If Dad and you fight.”
I felt cold.
“If Dad ever talks about someone named Michael.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Michael who?”
“She just said Michael.”
Noah finally looked up.
“And she wanted to know where Grandma keeps her jewelry.”
That made no sense.
Daniel’s mother lived twenty minutes away.
Linda had never met her.
At least I thought she hadn’t.
“Noah, did Linda ever take you anywhere without telling us?”
His face changed.
I saw the answer before he spoke.
“Once.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“A house.”
“What house?”
“I don’t know.”
“Whose?”
“She told me not to ask.”
I stood.
“Did you go inside?”
He nodded.
“Who was there?”
“A man.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“What man?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“Older than Dad.”
I grabbed my phone.
This wasn’t family drama anymore.
This was something else.
I dialed 911.
Daniel appeared in the doorway before the dispatcher answered.
His face went pale.
“Who are you calling?”
“The police.”
“Sarah—”
“Move.”
“We need to talk first.”
“No, we don’t.”
He looked behind him toward the stairs.
“Linda is gone.”
For a second, I thought I had misheard him.
“What?”
“She ran out the back door.”
“You let her leave?”
“I didn’t let her do anything. I went upstairs to find you. When I came back, she was gone.”
I told the dispatcher our address.
Daniel stood silently while I explained that our babysitter had been mistreating our son, photographing him without permission, taking him somewhere without our knowledge, and had just fled.
When I hung up, I turned to Daniel.
“Now you explain the photograph.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I met her once.”
“Once?”
“Yes.”
“She had her hand on you.”
“It was at a fundraiser.”
“What fundraiser?”
He hesitated.
I laughed bitterly.
“Wrong answer.”
“Sarah.”
“What fundraiser?”
“A recovery center fundraiser in Franklin.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve never mentioned a recovery center.”
“It wasn’t important.”
“Apparently it was important enough for Linda to keep a picture for three years.”
He looked at Noah.
“Not in front of him.”
Noah stepped behind me.
I had never seen my son move away from his father like that before.
Daniel noticed.
His face broke.
“Buddy.”
Noah didn’t respond.
Daniel looked devastated.
But I was too angry to comfort him.
“Go downstairs,” I said.
“Sarah—”
“Go.”
He left.
I knelt in front of Noah.
“The police are coming. You did the right thing telling me.”
“What if Linda comes back?”
“She won’t get near you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
It was the easiest promise I had ever made.
I didn’t know yet how difficult it would be to keep.
Two officers arrived twelve minutes later.
Officer Ramirez spoke with Noah while another officer searched the basement.
I stood near the kitchen and watched Daniel pace.
He kept checking the windows.
Not nervously.
Fearfully.
Officer Ramirez came downstairs holding the backpack.
“Mrs. Carter?”
“Yes.”
“There’s more in here than photographs.”
She put on gloves and opened the bag.
Inside were several notebooks.
A key.
A flash drive.
Two envelopes.
And a folded sheet with our weekly schedules written in detail.
My work hours.
Daniel’s office hours.
Noah’s school dismissal.
Soccer practice.
My mother-in-law’s church schedule.
Even the mornings Daniel went to the gym.
I felt sick.
“This woman has been tracking your family,” Ramirez said.
Daniel stopped pacing.
His eyes landed on the silver key.
His expression changed.
Ramirez saw it.
“You recognize that?”
Daniel answered too slowly.
“No.”
I walked toward him.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You looked at that key like you’d seen a ghost.”
Officer Ramirez turned to him.
“Mr. Carter, if there is anything you know about this woman, now is the time.”
Daniel remained silent.
Then Noah came into the kitchen.
He was holding a small plastic dinosaur.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“The man from the house had one of those keys.”
The room went still.
Officer Ramirez crouched.
“You saw a key like this?”
Noah nodded.
“It opened a red door.”
Daniel suddenly grabbed the counter.
Officer Ramirez stood.
“Mr. Carter?”
Daniel stared at Noah.
“What red door?”
Noah flinched.
I stepped between them.
“Don’t raise your voice.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re terrifying him.”
Daniel backed away.
Then he said something I didn’t understand.
“There was a red door at Michael’s house.”
My pulse jumped.
“Michael?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
The name Linda had been asking Noah about.
Officer Ramirez heard it too.
“Who is Michael?”
Daniel looked at me.
“My brother.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t have a brother.”
His eyes filled with shame.
“I did.”
My whole world shifted.
“What do you mean, you did?”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
We had been married seven years when that supposedly happened.
I would have remembered my husband losing a brother.
I would have remembered a funeral.
I would have remembered a phone call.
I would have remembered anything.
But there had been nothing.
“You lied to me for eleven years?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Stop saying that.”
Officer Ramirez spoke calmly.
“How did your brother die?”
Daniel’s face went white.
“Overdose.”
“And Linda?”
Daniel looked toward the basement.
“She was his girlfriend.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Noah whispered behind me.
“Dad?”
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears.
But before anyone could speak, the second officer came quickly up the basement stairs.
“Ramirez.”
Something in his voice silenced us.
He held up the second phone.
“We got it powered on.”
Officer Ramirez took it.
“What’s on it?”
The officer glanced at Noah, then at me.
“Messages.”
“To who?”
He looked straight at Daniel.
“Someone saved under the name Michael.”
Daniel stumbled backward.
“No.”
Officer Ramirez frowned.
“The most recent message was sent yesterday.”
I watched my husband lose every trace of color.
May you like
Then the officer read the message aloud.
“Almost ready. The boy remembers more than his father thinks.”
