Chapter 4: The Woman Behind the Glass
The scream had stopped, but the sound of the man's voice remained in my ears.
Vanessa stared at the pool.
Daniel looked as if he'd seen a ghost.
I bent down and picked up the brass key.
“Open it,” I said.
Vanessa shook her head.
“Marcus, please.””
“Open it.””
“You don't understand what happens if we do.””
I held up the key.
“My wife is down there.””
“And so is my father.””
“Then perhaps you should have thought about that before helping him imprison her.””
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“I didn't put Danielle in there.””
“But you knew she was there.””
“Yes.””
“And you let me believe she was dead.””
She looked away.
That was answer enough.
I walked toward the pool ladder.
Daniel stepped in front of me.
“Don't.””
I stopped.
“Move.””
“Marcus, if you open that door, everything changes.””
“Everything already changed.””
I climbed down.
The water was colder than before. My injured hand burned as I reached beneath the surface.
The metal handle was easy to find now.
I inserted the key.
It turned halfway.
Then stopped.
I tried again.
Nothing.
“It's stuck!”” I shouted.
Vanessa knelt beside the pool.
“Turn it counterclockwise first!””
I looked at her.
“How do you know?””
“Because that's how my father designed it.””
I turned the key in the opposite direction.
A heavy click sounded beneath the water.
The metal door shifted.
A stream of bubbles rushed past my face.
I pulled the handle.
The door opened only a few inches before something inside stopped it.
I surfaced, coughing.
“There's something blocking it.””
Vanessa's face had gone white.
“That's impossible.””
“Help me!””
She jumped into the pool.
Together, we pulled.
The door moved another inch.
Then another.
Something scraped against the metal from the other side.
A hand appeared through the opening.
A woman's hand.
Thin.
Pale.
With a small crescent-shaped scar near the thumb.
I knew that scar.
Danielle had gotten it while cutting lemons for our first Thanksgiving dinner together.
My breath caught.
“Dani?””
The hand grabbed mine.
“Marcus!””
I pulled with everything I had.
A woman's face appeared in the narrow gap.
Her hair was longer, tangled, and streaked with gray. Her cheeks were hollow. Her lips were cracked.
But her eyes were the same.
My wife.
Alive.
I began crying before I could stop myself.
“Danielle!””
She reached through the opening.
I grabbed her wrist.
“I'm getting you out!””
“Wait!”” she gasped.
“What?””
“Don't let Robert leave!””
I turned.
Daniel was already running toward the house.
Vanessa climbed out of the pool and chased him.
“Daniel! Stop!””
I couldn't leave Danielle.
I pulled harder.
The door finally gave way.
A narrow metal ladder descended into darkness.
Danielle emerged coughing, shaking, and barely able to stand.
I lifted her out of the water and wrapped my arms around her.
For four years, I'd imagined this moment.
In some versions, she ran into my arms.
In others, she collapsed and I carried her to safety.
I had never imagined how fragile she would feel.
She was so thin that my arms seemed to swallow her.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
I held her tighter.
“Don't. Just don't.””
She looked toward the house.
“Where's Ava?””
“She's safe.””
“Where is she?””
“Inside.””
Danielle began crying.
“I thought I'd never see her again.””
I kissed her forehead.
“She remembers you.””
Her eyes widened.
“She does?””
“She says you've been talking to her.””
Danielle closed her eyes.
“I've been trying to reach her through the ventilation system. There's a speaker connected to the nursery.””
I looked at her.
“You've been talking to her?””
“Only when they weren't listening.””
I felt sick.
“How long have you been down there?””
“Four years.””
The answer was almost too much to comprehend.
Four years beneath our own house.
Four years while I slept upstairs.
Four years while Ava grew from a baby into a little girl.
“Who did this to you?””
Danielle gripped my wrist.
“Robert Cole.””
“Vanessa's father?””
She nodded.
“And Daniel?””
Her face tightened.
“He helped him.””
I looked toward the house.
“Why?””
“Because your father left something behind. Something that could put Robert in prison for the rest of his life.””
“What?””
Danielle glanced toward the open metal doorway.
“The original property records. Bank transfers. Names of everyone involved.””
I frowned.
“Why would my father keep those?””
“Because he was planning to expose them before he died.””
I felt a chill.
“Dad knew?””
“He was trying to get out. Robert found out and threatened him.””
My father had died from a heart attack two months before Danielle disappeared.
Or so we'd been told.
Danielle reached into her wet hair and removed a tiny object wrapped in plastic.
It was a small memory card.
“Your father gave this to me,” she whispered.
“He told me to hide it if anything happened.””
I took it.
“What does it contain?””
“Proof.””
Before I could ask another question, the housekeeper rushed onto the terrace.
“Mr. Marcus!””
She was holding Ava's pink backpack.
“Where is Miss Ava?””
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?””
“She was upstairs. I went to get her a snack, and when I came back, her bedroom was empty.””
Danielle gripped my arm.
“No.””
I ran toward the house.
The nursery door was open.
The curtains moved in the breeze.
Ava's stuffed rabbit lay on the floor.
And on her little bed was a folded piece of paper.
I opened it.
The handwriting was unmistakably Vanessa's.
*Bring me the memory card if you want your daughter back.*
Underneath was a second line.
*You have thirty minutes. Come alone.*
Danielle staggered into the doorway.
“Marcus,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“What?””
She stared at the note.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Vanessa didn't take Ava.””
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?””
Danielle pointed at the handwriting.
“That's not Vanessa's writing.””
I looked again.
The letters were familiar.
But they weren't hers.
They belonged to someone else.
Someone who had been in our house that morning.
Someone who knew about the hidden room.
Someone I had trusted for my entire life.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered.
His voice came through, trembling.
“Marcus, don't bring the memory card.””
“Where's my daughter?””
A long silence.
May you like
Then Daniel whispered:
“She's with me.””
