Chapter 7 - THE SECOND DOOR
Police went back to the basement.
Behind stacked plastic bins, they found drywall newer than the rest.
They opened it.
Behind it was a narrow passage.
At the end was another door.
I wasn’t allowed inside.
I didn’t want to be.
Not after the photographs.
There was a small utility room beyond the wall.
Empty now.
But there were signs someone had been kept there.
Food wrappers.
A child’s sneaker.
A chain attached to a pipe.
When Ortiz told me that, I turned away.
I stood in the parking lot behind the police station and threw up.
Caleb’s DNA was found in the room.
So was Eric’s.
No blood.
That mattered.
At least Ortiz told me it mattered.
It meant they still had reason to believe Caleb might be alive.
Then Eric changed his story.
He claimed Caleb had run away from my property.
“From the basement?”
I asked Ortiz.
“He says he let him out.”
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
Finally, a direct answer.
Rachel’s attorney released a statement calling her a victim of manipulation.
I watched it on television in the hospital cafeteria.
“Mrs. Carter was under intense emotional coercion…”
I shut the screen off.
Dana sat across from me.
“Don’t watch that.”
“She’s turning herself into the victim.”
“That’s what lawyers do.”
“She watched a child beg for help.”
“I know.”
“She left our babies underground.”
“I know.”
I hit the table with my palm.
A couple nearby looked over.
I lowered my voice.
“I slept beside her.”
Dana waited.
“For years.”
My throat tightened.
“How do you sleep beside someone and not know?”
She said nothing.
Good.
I didn’t need some clean answer.
There wasn’t one.
Lily was discharged three days before Tommy.
She refused to return home.
So we stayed with my brother, Sam.
The first night, she woke screaming.
“Tommy!”
I ran into her room.
“I’m here.”
“Where’s Tommy?”
“Hospital.”
“No.”
She was crying hard now.
“No, Mommy’s taking him.”
“She can’t.”
“She always comes back.”
I sat on the bed.
“She can’t come near you.”
Lily stared at me.
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
She held out her pinky.
That nearly broke me.
I hooked mine around hers.
“Promise.”
The next morning, police called.
A fisherman had found a child’s backpack near the river.
Inside was a library card.
Caleb Vaughn.
We drove to the station.
Ortiz met me outside.
“Before you panic, there’s no body.”
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
“There’s also something in the backpack.”
“What?”
“A prepaid phone.”
“Does it work?”
“Barely.”
They recovered one unsent text message.
It was addressed to a number registered to Rachel.
May you like
The message read:
YOU SAID YOU WOULD HELP ME.
