Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Gone
“Mom never died.”
Three words.
That was all it took to make the hallway disappear around me.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t hear the grandfather clock. I couldn’t hear the broken crystal settling across the marble floor. I couldn’t even hear my own breathing.
All I could hear was Perrin’s voice repeating inside my head.
Mom never died.
I looked down at my son.
He had both arms locked around my neck now, his dirty fingers gripping the back of my shirt as though somebody might tear him away from me if he loosened them.
Then I looked at Rhea.
She had gone completely white.
That frightened me more than any denial could have.
“Explain,” I said.
Rhea swallowed.
“He’s confused.”
Perrin immediately buried his face against me.
“No.”
His voice was tiny, but certain.
Rhea took one careful step forward.
“He’s been having nightmares since you left. You know how children are. They hear things, imagine things—”
“Stop.”
My voice came out colder than I expected.
She stopped.
I carried Perrin away from the broken doorway and lowered him onto a bench beneath the hallway window.
“Buddy, look at me.”
He slowly raised his eyes.
“When did you last eat?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation nearly broke me.
“I don’t know.”
Rhea rushed to answer.
“He ate this morning.”
Perrin flinched.
I saw it.
So did she.
I turned toward her.
“Go into the living room.”
“What?”
“Now.”
“This is my home too.”
“No, Rhea. It isn’t.”
Her expression hardened.
“We’re getting married.”
“Not anymore.”
The words landed between us.
Rhea stared at me.
Then something ugly flashed across her face.
“You’re going to throw everything away because a frightened child told you a story?”
I stood.
Perrin grabbed my sleeve.
I stopped myself from moving any closer to her.
“He is my son.”
“And I’m the woman who stayed here while you disappeared for months!”
“I worked.”
“And who took care of everything while you were gone?”
I looked at the hidden compartment.
“You?”
She followed my eyes.
That was enough.
I took out my phone.
Rhea’s confidence disappeared.
“Who are you calling?”
“Police. An ambulance. Then my attorney.”
She moved toward me.
“Don’t.”
I stepped between her and Perrin.
“Give me one reason.”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Then Perrin whispered, “Dad.”
I crouched again.
“There’s another room.”
I stared at him.
“Where?”
He pointed toward the hidden compartment.
I looked inside.
At first I saw only darkness, old blankets, the stuffed dog and a plastic cup.
Then I noticed the back wall.
There were scratches near the floor.
I turned on my phone flashlight.
A narrow seam ran vertically through the paneling.
Another door.
Rhea suddenly lunged forward.
“Don’t open that.”
Everything stopped.
I turned slowly.
“What’s behind it?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
She backed away.
“I’m not.”
I entered the compartment.
The air smelled stale.
My stomach turned when I saw empty water bottles pushed beneath a blanket.
This hadn’t been a game.
Someone had kept Perrin here.
I pressed against the second panel.
Nothing.
“Dad,” Perrin said from behind me. “Bottom corner.”
I felt beneath the molding.
There was a small metal catch.
Click.
The panel released.
Behind it was not another room.
It was a narrow passage.
The passage disappeared into darkness.
I heard Rhea running.
I spun around.
She was halfway toward the foyer.
I caught her before she reached the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“Get off me!”
Perrin screamed.
I released her immediately and stepped back.
Rhea stumbled against the dessert table.
The cake tipped, crashed, and spread pink frosting across the marble.
Crystal glasses shattered around her feet.
She stared at me with hatred.
“Touch me again, and I’ll destroy you.”
“Police are coming.”
For the first time, she smiled.
It wasn’t a normal smile.
“You think they’re going to believe you?”
I didn’t answer.
She wiped frosting from her hand.
“You’re gone half the year. Your son has behavioral problems. You come home, destroy a wall, attack your fiancée, and suddenly you’re the hero?”
My stomach tightened.
She had thought about this.
Maybe for months.
Then Perrin said something behind me.
“She has videos.”
Rhea’s smile vanished.
I looked at him.
“What videos?”
“She made me say things.”
Rhea shook her head.
“Perrin.”
He recoiled.
I stepped between them.
“Never say his name like that again.”
Outside, sirens approached.
Rhea looked toward the windows.
Then toward the passage.
That glance told me everything.
Whatever was inside mattered more to her than getting away.
Two paramedics arrived first, followed by police.
I explained as quickly as I could.
One officer stayed with Rhea.
The paramedics examined Perrin.
He was dehydrated, underfed, bruised in several places and terrified of being separated from me.
When one paramedic asked how long he had been inside the hidden room, Perrin whispered, “Three days this time.”
This time.
I had to sit down.
The paramedic looked at me.
“What does he mean?”
I couldn’t answer.
Rhea did.
“He locks himself in there.”
Perrin began crying.
“No!”
The officer turned toward Rhea.
“Ma’am, please stop speaking to the child.”
She folded her arms.
Perrin reached for me.
I took his hand.
“Tell them only what you remember.”
He looked at the officer.
“She puts me there when I ask about Mom.”
The officer’s expression changed.
“Your mother?”
Perrin nodded.
“Her name is Mara.”
My chest tightened.
Mara.
I hadn’t heard my wife’s name spoken inside this house in almost four years.
Mara had disappeared after driving to visit her sister.
Her car was later found near a river after a storm.
Authorities found her purse and blood inside the vehicle.
Weeks of searching produced nothing.
Eventually investigators told me what I refused to accept.
The river had probably carried her body away.
I had spent two years hoping they were wrong.
Then Rhea entered our lives.
She had been patient.
Kind.
Understanding.
Or so I thought.
“How do you know your mother is alive?” the officer asked.
Perrin pointed toward the passage.
“I heard her.”
My knees almost gave out.
The officer stared at the darkness.
“When?”
“Lots of times.”
Rhea suddenly spoke.
“He’s lying.”
Perrin covered his ears.
That reaction made the officer move immediately.
“Ma’am, turn around.”
“What?”
“You’re being detained while we investigate.”
“You cannot be serious.”
The officer handcuffed her.
She started shouting about lawyers.
I barely heard her.
Because another officer had entered the passage with a flashlight.
Thirty seconds later he called out.
“We’ve got stairs.”
More officers arrived.
The passage led downward beneath the house.
I wanted to follow.
They refused.
So I stayed beside Perrin while paramedics wrapped him in a blanket.
Then a detective emerged from the passage carrying something in a clear evidence bag.
A woman’s bracelet.
Silver.
A tiny moon charm hanging from it.
My world tilted.
I knew that bracelet.
I had given it to Mara on our fifth anniversary.
“Where did you find that?”
The detective looked at me carefully.
“In a room downstairs.”
“Was anyone there?”
He hesitated.
“No.”
My hope collapsed.
Then he added, “But someone was there recently.”
They found a mattress.
Medicine.
Women’s clothing.
Food wrappers.
A hairbrush.
And chains attached to a metal ring in the wall.
Rhea stopped shouting.
For the first time, she looked terrified.
I walked toward her.
“Where is Mara?”
She said nothing.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
An officer held me back.
Rhea stared at Perrin.
Then she smiled.
“If you want to find your wife,” she whispered, “you should ask your son what he did.”
Perrin began shaking.
I turned toward him.
“Don’t listen to her.”
But his eyes had filled with tears.
“There’s something else, Dad.”
“What?”
He reached beneath his filthy waistband and pulled out a tiny folded piece of paper.
“I stole this from Rhea.”
I unfolded it.
There was an address.
And beneath it, written in handwriting I recognized immediately, were four words:
PLEASE BRING MY SON.
Mara’s handwriting.
My wife was alive.
And somewhere beyond those walls, she was waiting for us.
But the address on the paper led to a place I knew very well.
May you like
A place that should have been empty for twenty years.
My father’s abandoned house.
