Chapter 2 - Behind the Locked Door
Marcus moved toward the staircase.
Vanessa stepped in front of him.
“Marcus, wait.”
He stopped.
“Move.”
“You don't understand what you're looking at.”
“Then explain it.”
“It was a discipline issue.”
Grace made a small choking sound behind them.
Marcus looked at his daughter.
That sound changed everything.
He walked around Vanessa.
Mia followed.
So did Grace, although she remained several feet behind them.
At the end of the upstairs hallway, Marcus found the white door from the photograph.
The metal latch was still there.
So was the padlock.
He stared at it.
“You installed this?”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Grace kept getting into things she wasn't supposed to.”
Marcus turned.
“So you locked a storage closet?”
“I converted it into a quiet room.”
“A quiet room?”
“She would throw tantrums.”
Grace whispered, “I didn't.”
Vanessa looked at her sharply.
Marcus saw it.
For perhaps the first time, he saw the warning hidden inside his wife's expression.
Grace immediately stepped backward.
Marcus's voice dropped.
“Grace. Come stand beside me.”
She hesitated.
Then she crossed the hallway and took his hand.
Her palm was cold.
“Were you locked in here?”
Grace stared at the floor.
Marcus crouched.
“You aren't in trouble.”
Her eyes lifted.
“Sometimes.”
“How many times?”
“I don't know.”
“For how long?”
Vanessa interrupted.
“Marcus, this is getting absurd.”
He stood.
“Where's the key?”
“I don't know.”
“Vanessa.”
“It might be downstairs.”
Mia quietly opened the hall cabinet.
She reached behind a stack of towels and removed a small brass key.
Vanessa stared at her.
“How did you know that was there?”
Mia said nothing.
Marcus unlocked the padlock.
The door opened inward.
No one moved.
The room was barely six feet wide.
There were no windows.
A thin folded blanket lay on the floor.
Beside it sat a half-empty bottle of water.
Several children's books were stacked against the wall.
Grace's books.
Marcus recognized her copy of Charlotte's Web.
A plastic container sat in one corner.
Marcus did not ask what it had been used for.
He couldn't.
Mia began crying.
On the wall, faint pencil marks had been drawn near the baseboard.
Rows of them.
Marcus crouched.
Each row contained groups of five.
Like someone counting days.
Or hours.
Grace squeezed his fingers.
“I counted when she wouldn't tell me when I could come out.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Behind him, Vanessa said quickly, “She was never in there overnight.”
Grace whispered, “Yes, I was.”
Vanessa's face tightened.
“Grace.”
Marcus stood so quickly Vanessa stepped backward.
“Don't.”
His voice was quiet.
That frightened her more than shouting would have.
“Don't say her name like that again.”
Marcus took out his phone.
Vanessa stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling my sister.”
“For what?”
“The children aren't staying here tonight.”
“Marcus—”
“And then I'm calling the police.”
Her expression changed.
“You're going to destroy our family over photographs taken by a ten-year-old?”
Marcus looked inside the room again.
“No.”
He looked directly at Vanessa.
“I'm trying to find out what you already destroyed.”
Grace tugged his sleeve.
“Dad?”
He turned.
She pointed toward the blanket.
“There’s something under there.”
Marcus lifted it.
Beneath the blanket was a large white envelope.
It was addressed to:
MARCUS CARTER — PRIVATE FINANCIAL DOCUMENTS
The return address belonged to the law firm that had handled his late wife's estate.
Marcus stared at it.
May you like
The envelope had already been opened.
And he had never seen it before.
