Chapter 1 - THE VOICE IN THE WALL
Daniel Brooks had spent less than twenty minutes inside Clara's childhood bedroom when someone inside the wall called him Daddy. He was alone in the old Reed family house, or at least he believed he was, sorting boxes that had remained untouched since his wife's funeral eighteen days earlier. Clara had inherited half the property after her father died, Evelyn owned the other half, and both sisters had agreed years ago that the aging suburban house should eventually be sold. Clara's death had turned “eventually” into paperwork Daniel could no longer avoid, so he rolled up his sleeves, opened the dusty windows and began clearing the room where his wife had grown up.
The voice came again while Daniel was pulling books from a warped wooden shelf. “Daddy...” It was too faint to belong to someone in the hallway, and for one irrational second Daniel thought grief had finally started producing sounds. Then something scraped behind the drywall. Daniel crossed the room, pressed his palm against the old paneling and heard a child cough on the other side.
One section near the closet had already pulled away from the studs. Daniel wedged his fingers beneath the loose wooden trim and tore until the panel cracked free, showering the floor with dust. Behind it was a narrow cavity that should have contained nothing but pipes and insulation. Instead, a little girl was curled against the far wall with her knees against her chest.
She looked seven, perhaps younger because she was so thin. Tangled brown hair covered part of her face, an old denim dress was gray with plaster dust and her lips were dry enough to split when she whispered Daniel's name. He reached into the cramped space, and the girl lunged toward him with surprising strength, locking both arms around his neck as soon as he lifted her free.
Daniel sat her on the bed and reached for the water bottle he had brought upstairs. She drank too quickly, so he pulled it away after several swallows and made her pause. “What's your name?” he asked. The girl stared at him as though the question itself confused her, then said, “Lily.”
“How long have you been in there?”
Lily looked toward the broken panel. “A long sleep and another sleep.” Her fingers tightened around Daniel's shirt collar before she whispered, “I ate the wall dust because my stomach hurt.”
Daniel's chest tightened. He was already reaching for his phone when a movement in the doorway stopped him. Evelyn Reed stood barefoot in the hallway wearing a pale cardigan, her face changing the instant she saw the child in Daniel's arms.
“She can't be here.”
Daniel turned fully toward Clara's younger sister. Evelyn had been avoiding him since the funeral, answering questions about the house through short text messages and claiming she needed time before helping him clear Clara's belongings. Until that moment Daniel assumed grief explained her distance. Now she looked frightened in a way grief did not explain.
“Who is she?”
Evelyn's gaze moved from Daniel to Lily and then toward the stairs. “Daniel, listen to me—”
“No. Who is she?”
Lily pulled herself closer to Daniel. Evelyn took one step into the bedroom but stopped when the child flinched. The reaction told Daniel they knew each other.
Before Evelyn could answer, Daniel noticed something deeper inside the wall cavity. An old wooden chest had been pushed against the back, almost completely hidden behind torn insulation. He set Lily on the bed, told her not to move and dragged the chest into the room while Evelyn repeatedly said his name.
The lid was not locked. Inside were photographs, pediatric medical records, envelopes and a black diary with CLARA written across the first page in his wife's handwriting. Daniel picked up the nearest photograph and felt the room change around him.
Lily stood in the foreground wearing a yellow raincoat.
Clara stood directly behind her.
The photograph was recent.
Daniel turned it over. Clara had written one sentence across the back.
I can't keep lying to Daniel anymore.
He looked at Evelyn. “Clara knew her?”
Evelyn did not answer.
Daniel opened the diary, but before he could read more than the first date, someone pounded on the front door hard enough to echo through the old house. Lily recoiled immediately and crawled behind Daniel on the bed.
A man's voice came from downstairs.
“Daniel? Open the door.”
Evelyn lost all color.
Daniel closed Clara's diary around one finger, positioned himself between Lily and the hallway and asked quietly, “Who is that?”
Evelyn looked toward the stairs.
“Warren Carson.”
The name meant nothing to Daniel.
May you like
Lily knew it.
She grabbed the back of his shirt and whispered, “Don't let him take me.”
