Chapter 7: The Night I Promised to Forget
“Marcus, I need you to think carefully before you answer.””
Detective Harris placed my phone on the table between us. The photograph of the woman in the basement remained on the screen, her long brown hair covering half her face, the blue blanket draped across her lap.
“Do you remember October 18, three years ago?”” he asked.
I stared at the date.
“Yes.””
“Tell me what happened.””
I rubbed my palms against my jeans.
“I came home from a business trip. Claire was sitting in the kitchen. She looked terrified, but she told me she'd had a nightmare.””
“What time did you arrive?””
“About eleven at night.””
“Was anyone else in the house?””
“Not that I knew of.””
Harris wrote something down.
“Did you hear anything unusual?””
I opened my mouth, then stopped.
A memory surfaced.
A dull thud beneath my feet.
Three knocks.
Then a woman's voice, muffled by the floorboards.
Please. Somebody, please.
I gripped the chair.
“Oh, God.””
Harris leaned forward.
“What is it?””
“I heard someone.””
“Someone in the basement?””
“I think so.””
I could almost smell the rain-soaked jacket I'd worn that night. I remembered standing near the bottom of the basement stairs, listening to the house settle around me.
I'd called Claire's name.
She appeared at the top of the stairs, barefoot and pale.
“Don't go down there,” she'd said.
I remembered laughing uneasily.
“Why? Did something fall?””
She grabbed my arm.
“Marcus, please. Just come upstairs.””
Then came another sound from below.
Three desperate knocks.
I'd turned toward the door.
Claire began crying.
“It's the pipes,” she'd whispered.
“The house makes noises. You know that.””
I had believed her.
Or perhaps I'd wanted to.
Detective Harris interrupted my thoughts.
“Did you open the basement door?””
“No.””
“Did you check whether someone was inside?””
I lowered my head.
“No.””
The answer tasted like metal.
Harris didn't accuse me. Somehow, that made it worse.
“Did Claire explain why she was afraid?””
“She said she'd heard noises earlier. She told me the previous owners had left old equipment in the basement and that a loose panel was banging in the wind.””
“Did you inspect it the following morning?””
I shook my head.
“I left early. I had a meeting.””
“And you never returned to investigate?””
“Not that I remember.””
The detective closed his notebook.
“Mr. Hayes, we're going to need a detailed timeline. If you remember anything else, tell us immediately. Even details that seem insignificant may matter.””
After he left, I sat alone in the consultation room, staring at my hands.
I had spent three years believing I was an ordinary husband who worked too much.
Now I wondered whether my greatest failure had happened on a night when someone was begging for help beneath my feet.
When I returned to Maya's room, she was awake.
“Daddy, are you mad at me?””
I rushed to her bedside.
“No. Never.””
“You look sad.””
I sat down.
“I remembered something about the basement.””
Her fingers tightened around her stuffed rabbit.
“Did you hear Elena?””
I looked at her sharply.
“Who told you that?””
“Mommy.””
“When?””
Maya stared at her blanket.
“After I asked why Elena never came upstairs.””
I took a slow breath.
“What did Mommy say?””
“She said you heard Elena once, but you didn't open the door.””
My chest tightened.
“Did she tell you anything else?””
Maya nodded.
“She said you promised to forget.””
I couldn't speak.
My daughter continued in a tiny voice.
“Mommy said if I ever told you about Noah, you'd remember everything. And then the bad thing would happen again.””
I reached for her hand.
“Sweetheart, do you know what the bad thing was?””
She shook her head.
“I only know that after Mommy said those things, she made me sit in the laundry room until I stopped asking questions.””
I held her hand while the monitor beeped softly beside us.
Then she whispered, “Daddy, I didn't want Noah to be alone.””
“You did nothing wrong.””
“But I helped Mommy.””
“You were a little girl who was scared. The adults were supposed to protect you.””
She started crying.
“I brought him water. I brought him books. Sometimes I sat outside his door and talked to him because he cried when nobody answered.””
I pulled her carefully into my arms, mindful of her pain.
“You were trying to help him.””
“Mommy said I was being a good sister.””
Her voice broke.
“Was I?””
I kissed the top of her head.
“Yes, sweetheart. You were.””
My phone rang.
Detective Harris.
“We've reviewed part of the journal recovered from the concealed room,” he said.
“There's an entry dated October 18, three years ago.””
My stomach clenched.
“What does it say?””
“I can't read you the entire entry over the phone, but there's a reference to a man being present in the house that night.””
“Does it name me?””
A pause.
“Yes.””
I closed my eyes.
“What did Elena write?””
Harris lowered his voice.
“She wrote that she heard you arrive home. She believed you were coming to help her.””
I stared at Maya.
“Did I know she was down there?””
“We're still determining what you knew and when you knew it.””
“Did she say anything else?””
“Yes. The entry ends with a sentence that investigators consider significant.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What sentence?””
Harris read it slowly.
“If Marcus remembers what Claire did before he came home, he'll understand why she chose me.”
The call ended a moment later.
I stood motionless.
Before he came home.
What had Claire done before I arrived?
And why had Elena believed my wife had chosen her?
Then a message appeared from Rebecca.
Marcus, I found something in an old email Claire sent me. You need to see it before you speak to her again.
Attached was a screenshot.
The subject line read:
*THE NIGHT MARCUS LOST HIS MEMORY.*
I opened the message.
May you like
The first sentence made my blood run cold.
Rebecca, if Marcus ever starts remembering October 18, tell him that the accident wasn't his fault. But whatever you do, don't let him find out what I did before I brought him home.
