Chapter 6: The Woman Behind the Wall
I forgot how to breathe.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?””
Maya pulled the blanket up to her chin.
“Mommy said Elena was sleeping.””
“Where?””
“In the other room.””
I thought about the police officer's words. A concealed room behind another concealed room.
“Did you see Elena?””
Maya nodded.
“Once.””
“When?””
“Last Christmas.””
I stared at her.
“Last Christmas?””
She nodded again, her eyes filling.
“Mommy told me I had to bring her water. She said Elena wasn't feeling well and needed to rest.””
“Was she awake?””
Maya shook her head.
“She didn't talk.””
My stomach lurched.
“What did she look like?””
Maya closed her eyes as if searching for the memory.
“She had long brown hair. Her hands were cold.””
I reached for my phone.
Before I could call the officer, it rang.
“Mr. Hayes,” he said.
“We need to speak with you about something we've discovered.””
“Tell me.””
“The first concealed room contained a sleeping area, children's belongings, and evidence that someone had been caring for a young boy. Behind the second door, we found another enclosed space.””
“Is there someone in there?””
A pause.
“We found personal effects that may belong to an adult woman. There are also signs that the space has been sealed for a considerable period.””
I gripped the edge of the bed.
“Is she alive?””
“We haven't found an adult occupant. Forensic specialists are examining the area.””
“Then why did my daughter say Elena was there?””
The officer went quiet.
“Who is Elena?””
I explained what Maya had told me and gave him the name from the birth certificate.
He asked me to send the photograph of the document and the messages I'd received.
Then he said, “Mr. Hayes, I need you to understand that we haven't confirmed the woman's identity or the circumstances. Please don't return to the property or contact anyone who might interfere with the investigation.””
“I won't.””
“There's one more thing. We found a locked metal box inside the second room. It contains several photographs and what appears to be a personal journal.””
“Whose journal?””
“The first page is signed Elena Brooks.””
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, the hospital sounds faded into the background. All I could hear was my own breathing and the faint beeping of Maya's monitor.
Elena Brooks.
A woman I couldn't remember.
A newborn I hadn't known existed.
A room hidden beneath my home.
And a wife who had looked at the backpack as if it contained the end of her life.
“Can you tell me what the journal says?””
“Not yet. It's evidence, and we're documenting it properly.””
“Please call me as soon as you know anything.””
“I will.””
When the call ended, Maya was watching me.
“Did you find her?””
I hesitated.
“The police found some things that belonged to Elena.””
“Is she coming back?””
I sat beside her.
“I don't know, sweetheart.””
Maya began picking at a loose thread on her blanket.
“Mommy said Elena was bad.””
“Did you believe her?””
She shrugged.
“Sometimes.””
“What made you think she was bad?””
Maya's eyes dropped.
“Mommy said Elena wanted to take Noah away. She said Elena was trying to hurt our family.””
I gently touched her shoulder.
“Did Elena ever hurt you?””
“No.””
“Did she ever hurt Noah?””
Maya shook her head.
“She used to sing to him.””
The words lodged in my chest.
“What did she sing?””
Maya began humming softly. A simple lullaby. I didn't recognize it, but halfway through, she stopped and covered her mouth.
“What's wrong?””
“Mommy told me never to sing that song.””
“Why?””
“Because it made Noah cry.””
I wanted to ask more, but Maya's breathing became uneven. Nia returned, checked her condition, and reminded me that she needed rest while the doctors continued their assessment.
I stayed beside her.
An hour later, a detective named Harris arrived. He wore a dark jacket over a white shirt and carried a thin folder.
“Mr. Hayes, I'd like to ask you some questions about your wife and the house.””
“Have you found Elena?””
“We haven't confirmed that a person by that name is connected to the property beyond the document and journal. We're investigating.””
“What about Noah?””
“He's receiving medical attention. A child-protection specialist is arranging his care.””
“Can I see him?””
“Not until the medical team and child-protection professionals determine that it's appropriate. We need to establish his identity and make sure any contact is safe for him.””
I nodded, even though every instinct told me to run to wherever they had taken the boy.
Detective Harris opened his folder.
“Did your wife ever mention a woman named Elena Brooks?””
“No.””
“Did you have a relationship with anyone by that name?””
“Not that I remember.””
“Has your wife ever accused you of fathering a child outside your marriage?””
“No.””
He wrote something down.
“Did you ever receive messages about a pregnancy or a child you didn't want to acknowledge?””
I remembered Rebecca's account.
“No. But someone may have forged messages and used my name.””
“That is possible. We'll examine any available evidence.””
I leaned forward.
“Detective, my daughter says she saw Elena in our house last Christmas. She says the woman wasn't moving.””
His pen stopped.
“Did she tell you where?””
“In a room behind the basement storage area.””
Harris exchanged a glance with the officer beside him.
“We found that room.””
“And?””
“We found evidence that may be relevant to your daughter's statement. I can't give you details until the forensic examination is complete.””
“Is there any chance Elena is still alive?””
He didn't answer immediately.
“Right now, we don't have enough information to establish what happened to her.””
I rubbed my face.
“Then what do you know?””
The detective closed the folder.
“We know someone took significant steps to conceal that room. We know a child was being kept in a separate space. And we know your wife appears to have information she hasn't shared with us.””
“Where is Claire?””
“We're attempting to locate her.””
I stood.
“She ran from the hospital.””
“We know she left the property before officers arrived. We're working to find her.””
My phone vibrated.
A new message from an unknown number.
This time, it included a photograph.
I opened it.
The image showed a woman sitting on the basement floor, her back against a concrete wall. Long brown hair covered one side of her face. A blue blanket lay across her lap.
On the wall behind her, someone had written a date.
*OCTOBER 18.*
Today's date.
Beneath the photograph were eight words.
*Claire knows you remember what happened that night.*
My hands went numb.
I looked at Detective Harris.
“Someone just sent me this.””
He took the phone carefully and examined the image.
“Don't respond,” he said.
“We'll need the original message and its metadata if available.””
I stared at the photograph.
I didn't remember Elena.
I didn't remember the night.
But the date on the wall was familiar.
Three years earlier, on October 18, I'd come home from a business trip to find Claire sitting alone in the darkened kitchen.
She'd told me she'd had a terrible nightmare.
She'd asked me to hold her until she stopped shaking.
And she'd made me promise something I had never understood.
If you ever hear a woman calling from beneath the house, Marcus, don't open the door.
At the time, I'd laughed nervously and asked what on earth she was talking about.
Claire had kissed my cheek.
Then she'd whispered, “Promise me.””
And I'd promised.
Now, standing in a hospital beside my frightened daughter, I finally understood why my wife had needed that promise.
May you like
Because three years ago, on this exact date, I might have heard Elena calling for help.
And I might have been the one who locked the door.
