Chapter 1 - The sandwiches
My daughter should have been asleep.
Instead, at 11:47 on a Tuesday night, Lily walked past my office carrying a ceramic plate stacked with four sandwiches.
She was three.
Four sandwiches was suspicious by itself.
The fact that she was moving on tiptoe made it worse.
I followed her.
She did not notice me until she reached the west hallway.
Our house was eleven years old.
Large.
Modern.
Expensive without being ridiculous.
Five bedrooms.
Finished basement.
Home office.
Guest suite.
Media room.
A narrow service corridor running behind part of the kitchen and laundry area because the original builder had planned mechanical access differently.
Nothing haunted.
Nothing ancient.
Nothing that should contain a child.
Lily stopped beside a wall between the downstairs guest closet and utility room.
She crouched.
Then pushed the plate toward a narrow gap beside the base molding.
“Lily… what are you doing?”
She jumped.
One sandwich fell.
Her lower lip trembled.
“Daddy.”
“Why are you awake?”
She looked at the wall.
Not at me.
“Lily?”
A sound came from behind the panel.
I stopped.
Scratching.
Then breathing.
I put one finger to my lips.
Emily heard my voice from upstairs and came down.
“What’s going on?”
I pressed my ear against the wall.
Someone inhaled sharply on the other side.
Emily stared at me.
Lily whispered:
“She gets hungry at night.”
Emily’s face changed.
“What?”
I grabbed the edge of the decorative wall panel.
It moved.
One corner had been loosened.
I pulled.
Wood trim separated.
Drywall dust fell.
Behind it:
Darkness.
A narrow cavity perhaps thirty inches wide.
Blankets.
Plastic water bottles.
Food wrappers.
A child-size sweatshirt.
Then two eyes reflected the hallway light.
The girl crawled backward.
Emily instantly moved Lily behind her.
I knelt.
“Don’t be afraid… I won’t hurt you.”
The girl looked five.
Maybe six.
Thin.
Pale.
Bare feet dirty.
Brown hair tangled around her face.
She wore an oversized gray sweatshirt and pajama trousers far too large for her.
I extended one hand.
She watched it.
Then Lily slipped around Emily and sat beside me.
“It’s okay.”
Emily pulled her back gently.
“Lily, stay here.”
The hidden girl looked at Lily.
Then at me.
Slowly, she crawled out.
Her knees trembled when she tried to stand.
I reached toward her but stopped before touching.
“Who are you?”
She looked directly at me.
Something in her face hit me.
The line of her eyebrows.
The shape around her eyes.
Her chin.
Not mine exactly.
Not Emily’s exactly.
Familiar.
The girl lifted one shaking hand.
Touched my cheek.
“Daddy…”
I looked at Emily.
Emily looked at the girl.
Then at Lily.
Her face went white.
“What?”
The child swayed.
I caught her before she hit the floor.
She weighed almost nothing.
Emily said:
“Ryan, call 911.”
I did.
Then Lily pointed at the hidden space.
“She sleeps there.”
“How long have you known?”
Lily held up fingers.
Three.
Then changed to four.
At three years old, that told me almost nothing.
Emily crouched beside her.
“When did you first see her?”
“At night.”
“How?”
“She cried.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Lily looked confused.
“She said secret.”
The girl in my arms opened her eyes.
“Don’t let Mara find me.”
May you like
That was the first name.
Then sirens came.
