Chapter 1 - The Hand Between the Slats)
The first police cruiser arrived seven minutes later.
To Mark, it felt like seven hours.
He refused to move away from the vent.
Lauren sat at the breakfast table with both hands wrapped around herself. She had stopped answering questions.
Noah remained close to Mark.
Every few seconds, the little girl's fingers disappeared behind the vent.
Each time, Mark's heart stopped.
Then they returned.
“Stay with me,” Mark whispered through the slats.
The girl did not answer.
“My name is Mark. I'm right here.”
A pause.
Then the tiny voice whispered, “You look like Daddy.”
Mark closed his eyes.
There it was again.
Not Daddy this time.
You look like Daddy.
Something cold moved through him.
The kitchen filled with police officers, paramedics and the sharp crackle of radios.
Officer Daniel Ruiz crouched beside Mark.
“We need you to step back.”
“She's scared.”
“I know.”
“Don't rush her.”
“We won't.”
A firefighter arrived with tools.
Lauren suddenly stood.
“No cutting.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Officer Ruiz straightened.
“Ma'am?”
“There are electrical lines behind that section.”
Mark stared at her.
“How do you know?”
Lauren froze.
Because the wall had existed when they bought the house.
At least Mark had believed it had.
They had renovated the kitchen two years earlier, but Lauren had managed most of the contractor decisions while Mark worked long hours.
He remembered choosing cabinets.
Flooring.
Pendant lights.
He did not remember discussing the strange oversized vent near the pantry.
Officer Ruiz asked quietly, “Mrs. Bennett, did you know there was a space behind this wall?”
Lauren looked at Mark.
“I knew there was a service cavity.”
“Did you know a child was inside it?”
Silence.
Mark's voice became almost unrecognizable.
“Answer him.”
Lauren whispered, “Yes.”
Noah began crying again.
Mark turned away from her because for one terrible moment he was afraid of what he might do if he kept looking.
The firefighter removed the vent carefully.
Behind it was not ordinary ductwork.
There was a narrow opening large enough for a small child to crawl through.
A paramedic shone a flashlight inside.
Mark saw pale-yellow fabric.
Messy hair.
A tiny face turning away from the light.
“Oh my God,” someone whispered.
The girl was curled against the wall on a folded blanket.
There was a bottle of water beside her.
A plastic container.
An old stuffed rabbit.
And a small silver necklace.
The paramedic crawled partway into the cavity.
“Sweetheart, my name is Katie. I'm going to help you come out.”
The child recoiled.
“No.”
“It's okay.”
“No.”
Her eyes found Mark again.
She stretched one hand toward him.
“Daddy.”
Mark's throat tightened.
Officer Ruiz looked at Mark carefully.
“Do you know this child?”
“No.”
Lauren made a sound behind them.
Barely more than a sob.
Mark turned.
She was staring at the necklace around the girl's neck.
He recognized the object too.
Not because he had seen that necklace recently.
Because he had seen it in an old family photograph.
A round silver locket with a tiny scratch across the front.
It had belonged to Michael's wife, Jenna.
Michael had given it to her the year they married.
Jenna had supposedly died in the same fire as Michael.
Their daughter had also been declared dead.
A baby named Abigail.
Ava.
Mark moved closer.
The paramedic helped the girl crawl toward the opening.
When she emerged into the kitchen light, she seemed smaller than Mark had imagined.
Five, perhaps six.
Thin.
Terrified.
Her oversized pajamas hung loosely around her.
No visible injuries.
Only exhaustion.
She looked around the room with enormous frightened eyes until she found Mark.
Then she stared.
Mark stared back.
His hands began shaking.
He knew those eyes.
Gray-blue.
Exactly like Michael's.
Exactly like his own.
The girl reached for him.
Mark did not know whether he was allowed to touch her.
The paramedic gave a tiny nod.
Mark knelt.
The girl wrapped her arms around his neck.
His entire body went rigid.
Then he held her.
She buried her face against his shoulder.
“You came back,” she whispered.
Mark looked over her head at Lauren.
Lauren was crying silently.
Officer Ruiz stepped between them.
“Mrs. Bennett, I need you to come with me.”
Lauren shook her head.
“You don't understand what's happening.”
“Then you can explain it at the station.”
Lauren looked directly at Mark.
“There is a man named Victor Hale.”
Mark had never heard the name.
“He'll come for her.”
Officer Ruiz said, “Who is Victor Hale?”
Lauren swallowed.
“The man who was supposed to make sure she stayed dead.”
The entire kitchen went silent.
Mark slowly stood with the little girl still holding him.
Lauren looked at the child.
Then at Mark.
“Her name isn't the name she's been using.”
“What is her name?” Mark whispered.
Lauren's voice cracked.
“Abigail Bennett.”
Mark almost dropped to his knees again.
Because Abigail Bennett had been buried four years earlier.
There was a small stone in Green Meadows Cemetery with her name on it.
May you like
A grave Mark visited every Christmas.
A grave that had never contained a body.
