Chapter 4 - The Room Behind My Closet
I had spent seventeen nights believing Lucy was coming between my husband and me.
She had been putting herself between me and whatever she feared Steven might do.
That realization hurt in a way anger couldn’t.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Michael said Steven would know.”
“Know what?”
“That someone found the passage.”
Thomas grabbed a hammer from the garage.
Steven tried to stop him.
I stood in the way.
“No.”
“Emily, you don’t understand.”
“That’s the problem.”
Thomas removed shelving from the upstairs closet.
Behind the back panel was newer drywall.
He struck once.
Steven shouted.
Twice.
A section broke inward.
Cold air escaped.
There was a space behind our bedroom wall.
Not huge.
Maybe four feet wide.
Running the length of the hallway.
Electrical wire.
A narrow walkway.
Small vents.
And one chair positioned directly behind our bedroom.
Facing a rectangular opening concealed behind the molding.
A viewing slot.
My stomach turned.
Someone could sit there and see part of our room.
Lucy covered her mouth.
Thomas whispered:
“Jesus.”
Steven said quickly:
“This house is old. Previous owners—”
I laughed.
“The drywall is six months old.”
He stopped.
Then we found photographs.
Dozens.
Not of me undressing.
Nothing sexual.
Almost worse.
Me sleeping.
Me reading.
Me crying after arguments.
Thomas carrying boxes into the guest room.
Lucy walking upstairs.
Our routines documented.
Dates.
Times.
Patterns.
Someone had been studying us.
Then I saw one photograph that made my hands go numb.
Steven sleeping beside me.
Taken from inside the hidden passage.
If Steven was asleep in the picture—
he wasn’t the photographer.
I turned toward him.
“You knew someone else was in this house.”
His face collapsed.
“Yes.”
Thomas grabbed him.
“Who?”
Steven didn’t resist.
“Michael.”
Lucy stared.
“Michael is alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said he disappeared.”
“He did.”
“But he built this?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Steven whispered:
“My father.”
I stared.
Steven’s father, Robert Hale, had been dead eleven years.
Then Steven looked toward the hidden passage.
“He built the first version twenty-eight years ago.”
My skin went cold.
“Why?”
May you like
Steven answered:
“Because this house was never supposed to be a family home.”
