Chapter 2 - the room that should not exist)
Ryan did not remember crossing the kitchen.
He remembered only gripping the edge of the island because his legs suddenly felt unreliable.
"You brought a child into this house and put her inside a wall?"
"No."
Claire shook her head rapidly.
"It's not what you think."
"What exactly am I supposed to think?"
Ethan began crying.
Ryan immediately lowered his voice.
"Buddy, go sit in the living room."
"No."
"Ethan."
"I'm staying with Lily."
The way he said her name made Ryan look at him.
"How long have you known she's there?"
Ethan wiped his eyes.
"Three days."
Ryan turned toward Claire.
Claire looked away.
Three days.
Ryan walked toward the vent again.
"How do we get her out?"
Claire grabbed his arm.
"Ryan, listen to me first."
He pulled away.
"There's a five-year-old child crying behind my kitchen wall. I'm not listening to anything until she's out."
"The door is in the pantry."
Ryan stopped.
"What door?"
Claire walked toward the tall pantry cabinets.
Behind a shelf filled with canned food was a narrow wooden panel Ryan had never noticed.
Claire reached beneath a shelf and pressed something.
A hidden latch clicked.
Ryan stared.
"You knew this was here?"
"Your father showed it to me."
That answer only created another question.
The panel swung open.
A narrow passage disappeared into darkness.
Ryan turned on his phone flashlight.
The space was larger than he expected, perhaps four feet wide and running behind the kitchen and dining-room walls.
Old wiring lined one side.
There were blankets on the floor.
Bottled water.
A small battery lantern.
Children's books.
A stuffed rabbit.
And sitting against the far wall was a little girl.
Messy brown hair covered part of her face.
She wore pale pink pajamas.
Her knees were pulled tightly against her chest.
When Ryan appeared, her eyes widened.
She stared at him as if she had seen a ghost.
Then she whispered again.
"Daddy."
Ryan could not move.
The resemblance was not immediate.
But there was something familiar in her eyes.
Brown with tiny amber flecks.
Ryan had seen those eyes before.
Every morning.
In the mirror.
Claire entered behind him.
"Lily."
The girl recoiled.
Ryan noticed.
It was small but unmistakable.
Lily was afraid of Claire.
His chest tightened.
He crouched.
"My name is Ryan."
Lily shook her head.
"Mommy said your name was Ryan."
Claire inhaled sharply.
Ryan looked over his shoulder.
"Who is her mother?"
Claire said nothing.
Ryan turned back to Lily.
"Where is your mommy?"
The girl's expression changed.
She looked toward the floor.
"Sleeping."
Ryan's stomach twisted.
"Where?"
Lily hugged the stuffed rabbit.
"She wouldn't wake up."
Claire closed her eyes.
Ryan stood.
"Call 911."
Claire's eyes snapped open.
"No."
Ryan stared at her.
"What?"
"You can't."
"A child has been hidden inside our house."
"If you call the police right now, whoever is looking for her will know where she is."
Ryan laughed once in disbelief.
"Whoever is looking for her?"
"Please."
"Claire, what did you do?"
She stepped closer.
"I was trying to keep her alive."
Ryan looked at the blankets.
The water.
The food.
The hidden room.
This had been planned.
Maybe hurriedly, but planned.
"From whom?"
Claire looked toward Lily.
The girl was watching them.
"Not here."
Ryan shook his head.
"No more secrets."
Claire's face crumpled.
"Ryan, someone killed her mother."
The room seemed to contract.
Ryan looked at Lily.
She lowered her head.
Claire continued.
"Her mother called me six nights ago. She was terrified. She told me somebody had found her."
Ryan's voice became hollow.
"Who was she?"
Claire pulled her wedding ring around her finger.
A nervous habit Ryan had seen hundreds of times.
But never like this.
"Her name was Sarah Mitchell."
Ryan stopped breathing.
He knew that name.
He had not heard it spoken aloud in nearly six years.
Ethan appeared at the hidden doorway.
"Dad?"
Ryan barely heard him.
Sarah Mitchell.
The woman he had known during the worst six months of his marriage.
The woman he had kissed once.
The woman who had disappeared from his life before Ryan and Claire reconciled.
Ryan looked at Lily again.
Five years old.
Brown hair.
Amber-flecked eyes.
His knees suddenly weakened.
"No."
Claire whispered, "Ryan..."
"No."
"I didn't know until last week."
Ryan stared at his wife.
Then at the frightened child inside the wall.
"Are you telling me she's mine?"
May you like
Claire said nothing.
She did not need to.
