PART 4 — THE GIRL UNDER THE BED
Click.
The sound came again.
A camera shutter.
Somewhere upstairs.
Everyone froze.
The police officer closest to me raised one hand.
“Stay where you are.”
Another officer moved toward the staircase.
Dana stepped in front of me and Ava automatically.
“Lena, take Ava outside.”
I couldn’t move.
My eyes were fixed on the upstairs hallway.
Click.
Another photograph.
Then silence.
“Whoever is up there,” the officer shouted, “come out slowly with your hands visible!”
Nothing.
He looked at the other officers.
“Move.”
Three officers started up the stairs.
Their footsteps disappeared into the darkness.
Ava was trembling against my chest.
I kissed the top of her head.
“It’s okay.”
“No.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“It’s not.”
“What do you mean?”
“She knows we’re here.”
“Who?”
Ava pointed upstairs.
“Her.”
My skin prickled.
“Marissa?”
Ava shook her head.
“The girl.”
Before I could ask another question, something crashed upstairs.
The officers shouted.
A loud bang followed.
Then a scream.
Not a child’s scream.
A man’s.
Every person outside looked toward the house.
Dana grabbed my arm.
“Stay here.”
She moved toward the door.
I grabbed her wrist.
“No.”
“Lena—”
“You’re not going back in there.”
“My job is to keep you and Ava safe.”
“And my job is to keep you alive.”
She stared at me.
For one second, neither of us moved.
Then another shout came from upstairs.
“GET DOWN!”
A gunshot cracked through the house.
Ava screamed.
I dropped to my knees, covering her with my body.
The neighbors scattered.
Someone screamed outside.
Police rushed toward the entrance.
Dana pulled us behind the ambulance.
“Stay down!”
My ears rang.
I couldn’t breathe.
Another shot.
Then silence.
The kind of silence that comes after something irreversible.
I squeezed Ava against me.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Is Aunt Dana okay?”
I looked toward the doorway.
Dana was already inside.
My heart nearly stopped.
“Dana!”
I tried to get up.
A paramedic grabbed my shoulder.
“Ma’am, stay here.”
“That’s my sister!”
“Your sister is trained.”
“She doesn’t care if she’s trained!”
I fought to stand.
Then Dana appeared.
Alive.
She came down the stairs carrying something.
Not a weapon.
Not a person.
A photograph.
Her face was white.
She walked directly toward me.
“Lena.”
“What happened?”
“Someone fired from the bedroom.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where are they?”
“Gone.”
My stomach dropped.
“Gone?”
“They escaped through the attic.”
I stared at her.
“How?”
“There is a second exit.”
“A second exit?”
Dana nodded.
“Hidden behind the closet.”
She looked at Ava.
Then back at me.
“And Lena…”
“What?”
“We found the girl.”
My entire body went cold.
“Emily?”
Dana didn’t answer.
She handed me the photograph.
It showed a little girl.
Long brown hair.
Pale face.
Standing in front of the same dark wall we’d seen in the other photographs.
On the back was written:
EMILY CARTER
AGE 6
MARCH 14
My hands began shaking.
“Is she alive?”
Dana’s eyes met mine.
“No.”
Ava made a small sound.
I immediately covered her ears.
Dana lowered her voice.
“They found human remains beneath the floorboards.”
I couldn’t process the words.
“Whose?”
“They’re waiting for the forensic team.”
I looked toward the house.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
Dana frowned.
“Lena?”
I pointed toward the photograph.
“This picture.”
“What about it?”
“Look at the date.”
Dana looked.
Then her expression changed.
“What?”
“March 14.”
“So?”
“Emily disappeared eighteen months ago.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Ava was born eighteen months ago.”
Dana stared at me.
Neither of us spoke.
The implication was too horrible to say aloud.
Then Ava whispered:
“Mommy?”
I looked down.
“Did Emily have a mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“What was her name?”
I glanced at Dana.
We didn’t know.
But before either of us could answer, a police officer approached.
“We know who Emily’s mother is.”
My heart jumped.
“Who?”
The officer looked toward the house.
“Marissa.”
I thought I’d misheard him.
“What?”
“Emily Carter was Marissa’s daughter.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Dana stared at the officer.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Marissa told everyone she never had children.”
The officer nodded.
“She lied.”
I looked toward the police cruiser where Marissa had been taken.
A woman I’d thought was simply cruel.
A woman I’d thought had entered Caleb’s life after our divorce.
A woman who had somehow become obsessed with my daughter.
But now there was something much darker.
She had a daughter.
That daughter disappeared.
And eighteen months later, Marissa entered my ex-husband’s life.
The exact same period when Ava was born.
I felt sick.
“Why was Marissa with Caleb?”
The officer shook his head.
“We don’t know yet.”
“Then find out.”
He looked at me.
“We’re trying.”
“No.”
My voice was stronger this time.
“You need to understand something.”
He waited.
“Tonight wasn’t random.”
He didn’t answer.
“I know my daughter. I know when she’s afraid. I know when she’s confused. And whatever happened in that house wasn’t some isolated moment of anger.”
I held up the photograph.
“Someone has been documenting children.”
The officer nodded.
“We found dozens.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-seven.”
Dana’s face hardened.
“Thirty-seven?”
“Yes.”
“Children?”
“Most appear to be.”
I stared at the house.
Thirty-seven.
Thirty-seven children.
Thirty-seven photographs.
Thirty-seven stories nobody had told me.
I looked at Ava.
And suddenly another thought struck me.
“If Marissa did this…”
I couldn’t finish.
Dana did.
“She may not have done it alone.”
The officer’s radio crackled.
He turned away.
“Officer Reynolds.”
A voice came through.
“Go ahead.”
“Detectives have arrived.”
“Anything else?”
A pause.
Then the voice became urgent.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“We found a second room.”
Officer Reynolds looked toward us.
“Where?”
“In the basement.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed.
“What was inside?”
Another pause.
“Files.”
“What kind of files?”
“Medical records.”
My stomach dropped.
“Whose?”
The officer didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“Children.”
I felt Ava’s fingers tighten around mine.
I knelt.
“Sweetheart, did Marissa ever take you to the basement?”
Ava nodded.
Once.
My heart sank.
“When?”
“After Daddy went to sleep.”
“Why?”
“She said she needed to check something.”
“What?”
Ava’s eyes filled with tears.
“She measured me.”
Dana’s expression changed.
“With what?”
Ava made a small rectangle with her fingers.
“A little machine.”
I looked at Dana.
“What kind of machine?”
“I don’t know.”
Ava continued.
“She wrote things down.”
“What things?”
“My height.”
“Anything else?”
“My weight.”
“What else?”
Ava thought.
Then whispered:
“My blood.”
The world went silent.
I stared at my daughter.
“What do you mean, your blood?”
“She took a little.”
My knees weakened.
Dana caught my shoulder.
“When?”
Ava pointed toward the house.
“Last Tuesday.”
I remembered Tuesday.
Caleb had called me that night.
He’d said Ava was having fun.
He’d said she wanted to stay another night.
I’d believed him.
I’d gone to bed relieved.
My daughter had been in that house.
And someone had taken her blood.
I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?”
Ava shook her head.
“She said it was a game.”
A police detective approached.
“Ms. Mercer?”
I turned.
“Your daughter’s statement changes the situation.”
“What situation?”
“We’re treating this as a potential organized operation.”
My blood went cold.
“Organized?”
“We found records connecting several children.”
“Where?”
“Different states.”
I stared at him.
“How many?”
He hesitated.
“Twenty-three.”
Twenty-three children.
Across different states.
I looked at Dana.
She was staring at the detective.
“Are you saying Marissa is connected to all of them?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“But the records are here?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“We need warrants for some of the digital accounts.”
Dana laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“People are always one warrant away from saving somebody.”
The detective looked at her.
“I understand your frustration.”
“No, you don’t.”
Dana turned toward me.
“We’re leaving.”
The detective frowned.
“Ma’am—”
“My niece is not staying anywhere near this house.”
“I agree,” he said. “But we need to ask her additional questions.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tonight may be important.”
“She is five years old.”
The detective softened.
“Understood.”
We began walking toward my car.
Then Ava stopped.
She was staring at the house.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“There’s one thing I didn’t tell you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
She pointed toward an upstairs window.
“Daddy knows.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Ava’s eyes filled with tears.
“Daddy knows about the pictures.”
I looked at Dana.
Then back at Ava.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Daddy told Marissa not to let you find them.”
I couldn’t speak.
Dana whispered:
“Lena…”
I didn’t answer.
Ava continued.
“He said if Mommy finds out, she’ll take me away.”
My heart shattered.
“Your daddy said that?”
Ava nodded.
Then she whispered something else.
“He wasn’t scared.”
The words hit harder than anything else that night.
“What do you mean?”
“He knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He knew about Emily.”
I looked toward the police cruiser where Caleb sat.
Suddenly, the man I’d spent years trying to understand looked completely different.
My ex-husband.
The father of my child.
The man I’d trusted enough to leave Ava with.
He knew.
Or at least, according to my five-year-old daughter, he knew something.
I walked back toward the police.
“Where is Caleb?”
The detective stepped in front of me.
“Ms. Mercer—”
“Where is he?”
“He’s being interviewed.”
“I need to speak with him.”
“Not yet.”
“Then tell him something for me.”
“What?”
I looked through the cruiser window.
Caleb was sitting inside.
His head was down.
I raised my voice.
“Tell him I know about Emily.”
His head snapped up.
Our eyes met through the glass.
And I watched the color drain from his face.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
He knew.
He knew exactly who Emily was.
And he was terrified that I had finally discovered her.
I walked away.
But before I reached my car, Caleb began pounding against the cruiser window.
“Lena!”
I stopped.
“Lena, wait!”
I turned.
His face was twisted with desperation.
“Don’t trust Dana!”
Dana stiffened beside me.
“What?”
Caleb shook his head frantically.
“She doesn’t know everything.”
Dana took one step toward the cruiser.
“Explain.”
Caleb looked at me.
“Your sister thinks she saved Ava tonight.”
He swallowed.
“But she doesn’t know what happened eighteen months ago.”
My heart stopped.
“What happened?”
Caleb’s eyes moved toward Dana.
Then back to me.
“She wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Who?”
He whispered:
“Dana.”
Dana’s face went completely still.
“What are you talking about?”
Caleb shook his head.
“I can’t say it here.”
“Then where?”
He looked toward the detective.
“Ask her.”
Dana’s voice dropped.
“Ask me what?”
Caleb leaned toward the window.
“Ask Dana why she was at Marissa’s house eighteen months ago.”
I turned toward my sister.
Dana didn’t move.
“Lena…”
I stared at her.
“Were you?”
She looked away.
“Dana.”
Silence.
“Were you there?”
Her jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you didn’t know the whole story.”
“What story?”
Dana looked at the house.
Then at Ava.
Then finally at me.
“I was looking for Emily.”
My breath caught.
“You knew her?”
Dana nodded.
“How?”
She swallowed.
“She came to me.”
“When?”
“Three days before she disappeared.”
“Why?”
Dana’s eyes filled with something I’d never seen there before.
Regret.
“She was afraid.”
“Afraid of Marissa?”
Dana shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“Caleb.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Behind us, the police continued moving in and out of the house.
The lights flashed.
The neighborhood watched.
Ava clung to my hand.
And my sister whispered the sentence that shattered every assumption I’d made about the night.
“Emily told me your husband was buying children.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Dana’s voice cracked.
“And I didn’t believe her.”
Ava suddenly screamed.
Everyone turned.
She was pointing toward the upstairs window.
“The girl!”
“What girl?”
“She’s there!”
I looked up.
For one impossible second, I saw a small silhouette standing behind the glass.
A little girl.
Long hair.
White nightgown.
She lifted one hand.
Then pressed something against the window.
A photograph.
The police turned.
“HEY!”
Officers rushed inside.
The figure disappeared.
Dana grabbed my arm.
“Stay here.”
But I couldn’t.
I followed.
Up the stairs.
Past the photographs.
Past the broken door.
Past the dark hallway.
Until I reached the room.
The window was open.
The girl was gone.
But the photograph remained on the floor.
I picked it up.
It was a picture of Emily.
On the back, someone had written:
SHE DIDN’T DIE HERE.
My blood turned cold.
Then another line appeared underneath.
Written in fresh black ink.
SHE’S STILL ALIVE.
I stared at the words.
Dana stood behind me.
“Lena…”
I turned.
“What?”
Dana looked toward the open window.
“Then who did they bury under the floor?”
Before I could answer, a phone began ringing.
Not mine.
Not Dana’s.
A phone buried beneath the floorboards.
Everyone froze.
The ringing continued.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The detective slowly crouched.
He lifted a loose board.
Underneath was a black cellphone.
He picked it up.
The screen showed one incoming call.
No name.
No number.
Just:
MOM
The detective answered.
“Hello?”
A little girl’s voice came through the speaker.
Soft.
Terrified.
But unmistakably alive.
“Please…”
Everyone leaned closer.
“Who is this?” the detective asked.
The girl whispered:
“I’m Emily.”
My heart stopped.
Then she said:
“Tell Lena Mercer…”
A pause.
“…that Ava isn’t the first child.”
The line went dead.
And before anyone could speak, a message appeared on the phone.
One photograph.
Ava.
Sleeping in my house.
Taken last night.
And beneath the photograph were six words:
WE’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU TOO.
End of Part 4.
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