PART 3
I reached for the light switch.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
“Power’s out down here,” Tyler whispered.
I looked over my shoulder.
“How do you know?”
He pointed toward a second set of stairs leading farther down.
“There’s a flashlight hanging on the wall.”
I followed his finger.
A small emergency flashlight was mounted beside the basement door.
I pulled it free and switched it on.
The narrow beam cut through the darkness.
At first, I saw nothing unusual.
Old shelves.
Cardboard boxes.
A water heater.
A folded treadmill Sarah had promised to sell three years ago.
A stack of Christmas decorations.
Then the beam moved farther across the room.
And I saw the blanket.
It was lying on the concrete floor beside the far wall.
A child’s blanket.
Blue.
Covered in little white clouds.
My heart stopped.
I knew that blanket.
Noah had been wrapped in it the first winter after he was born.
Sarah used to keep it in the back seat of her car.
She called it his “magic blanket.”
I took another step.
“Dad?”
The voice came from behind me.
Not Sarah.
A man’s voice.
Deep.
Calm.
Close.
I spun around so quickly the flashlight nearly flew out of my hand.
Tyler was staring at the stairs.
His face had gone completely pale.
“What?” I whispered.
He pointed.
“Someone’s coming down.”
Footsteps sounded above us.
Slow.
Deliberate.
One step.
Then another.
I raised the flashlight toward the staircase.
A shadow appeared on the wall.
Then a man’s shoes came into view.
My stomach dropped.
I knew those shoes.
Mark.
Sarah’s ex-husband.
He stepped onto the basement floor wearing a dark jacket and jeans.
His eyes moved from me to Tyler.
Then to the flashlight in my hand.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Finally, Mark said quietly,
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I stared at him.
“Where is my daughter?”
His jaw tightened.
“She isn’t here.”
“Then whose voice did I just hear?”
He didn’t answer.
I stepped toward him.
“Where’s Noah?”
Something changed in his expression.
It was barely noticeable.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Fear.
“I don’t know what you think you heard.”
“I heard a child.”
“You heard pipes.”
“Pipes don’t say ‘Mommy’s here.’”
Mark looked toward the far wall.
That tiny movement told me everything.
I turned the flashlight in the same direction.
There was an old wooden storage cabinet against the wall.
It had always been there.
But something about it looked wrong.
A thin line of fresh dust ran across the floor.
Except directly in front of the cabinet.
That section was clean.
Recently disturbed.
I pointed at it.
“What is behind that?”
Mark didn’t move.
“Nothing.”
I walked toward it.
“Don’t.”
His voice stopped me.
I looked back.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Then explain it.”
He said nothing.
I took another step.
Tyler whispered behind me,
“Mr. Henderson…”
“What?”
“Look at the floor.”
I lowered the flashlight.
There were scratches in the concrete.
Fresh ones.
Several parallel marks leading from the cabinet toward the center of the basement.
Like something heavy had been dragged.
Or like someone had been trying to crawl.
My heart began pounding.
I grabbed the edge of the cabinet.
Mark moved forward.
“Don’t touch that.”
I shoved it anyway.
It moved.
Only a few inches.
Behind it was a door.
A real door.
Painted the same gray as the basement wall.
I had lived in this town for almost thirty years.
I had been inside Sarah’s house hundreds of times.
I had never seen it.
“What the hell is this?”
Mark closed his eyes.
“It’s an old storm shelter.”
I stared at him.
“Why didn’t I know about it?”
“Because Sarah didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Sarah?”
He didn’t answer.
I reached for the handle.
It was locked.
I turned toward Mark.
“Open it.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand that my daughter is missing, my grandson may be inside this house, and you’re standing between me and a locked door.”
Mark’s face tightened.
“Your daughter isn’t missing.”
“Then call her.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
“She’s not going to answer.”
“Try.”
He hesitated.
“Try!”
He dialed.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then went to voicemail.
I watched him lower the phone.
“Now you see?”
“No. I see you knew she wouldn’t answer.”
He looked at me.
“Because she’s the one who told me to come here.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“She called me last night.”
“You’re lying.”
“She told me something was wrong.”
“What was wrong?”
Mark looked toward the hidden door.
“She said someone had been inside the house.”
My anger disappeared.
“What did she mean?”
“She didn’t know.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t know.”
“Mark, stop talking in circles.”
He ran a hand over his face.
“She said she’d been hearing noises beneath the house for weeks.”
My mouth went dry.
The conversation from three weeks earlier flashed through my mind.
A car slowly passing her house.
Every night.
The strange question she’d asked me.
I suddenly understood that she’d never been imagining things.
She’d been afraid.
Very afraid.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
Mark looked down.
“She didn’t want you involved.”
“She should have.”
“I told her the same thing.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because she asked me to watch the house while she was gone.”
I stared at him.
“Sarah asked you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she tell me she was going to Denver?”
“She was supposed to.”
I felt a cold sensation move through my chest.
“Supposed to?”
Mark nodded.
“She never made that flight.”
Tyler took a step backward.
“What?”
Mark looked at him.
“You should leave.”
Tyler shook his head.
“No.”
Mark frowned.
“This isn’t your problem.”
“A kid is crying under this house,” Tyler replied. “I’m not walking away.”
Mark looked at me again.
“She didn’t go to Denver.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I haven’t seen her since last night.”
I stepped closer.
“Then who called me this morning?”
Mark stared at me.
“What?”
“Sarah called me at eight.”
His face went completely blank.
“She called me from the airport.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I heard airport announcements.”
“She could have recorded them.”
The words hit me like a punch.
I remembered the background noise.
The luggage wheels.
The announcement.
The rumble.
Everything had sounded perfectly convincing.
But Sarah had always been clever.
And suddenly another detail bothered me.
She had told me she was boarding an earlier flight.
She had never said which flight.
I pulled my phone from my pocket.
I opened my messages.
There was the conversation.
Her last text from that morning.
Love you, Dad. I’ll call when I land.
The timestamp was 8:17 a.m.
I stared at it.
Then at Mark.
“You knew she was in trouble last night.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I promised her.”
“You promised my daughter?”
“She made me swear.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead, I said,
“Open the door.”
Mark shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have the key.”
“Then how did you get into this basement?”
“The door was open when I arrived.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
That was exactly when Tyler had started mowing.
My eyes narrowed.
“Why did you come here?”
“I got a message.”
“From Sarah?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Mark pulled his phone out again.
He showed me the screen.
Unknown number.
One message.
COME ALONE. SHE’S STILL ALIVE.
I read it twice.
My stomach twisted.
“Who sent this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because five minutes later I got another one.”
He scrolled.
BRING THE KEY.
My eyes moved to the spare key still in my hand.
I suddenly felt like the metal was burning my palm.
“They knew I had it.”
Mark nodded.
“That’s what scared me.”
Tyler looked between us.
“Then somebody knows you’re here.”
Before either of us could respond, something slammed against the hidden door.
All three of us jumped.
The sound was muffled.
Heavy.
Then came a cry.
“Dad?”
I stopped breathing.
It was Sarah.
I knew her voice.
Even through the thick door.
Even weak and frightened.
It was her.
“Sarah!”
I rushed forward.
The door rattled again.
“Dad!”
“I’m here!”
I grabbed the handle.
Locked.
“Sarah, are you hurt?”
A pause.
Then,
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“Dad, don’t open it.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Don’t open the door.”
Mark stepped forward.
“Sarah?”
She went silent.
Then she whispered,
“Mark?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Noah?”
