Chapter 7: The Basement
The engine outside died.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then Michael drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.””
Dad stepped toward the window.
“Don't.””
Michael grabbed his shoulder.
“You don't know who's out there.””
Dad looked at him.
“I know Victor.””
“No,” Michael said.
“You knew Victor seventeen years ago.””
Mom picked up the brass key.
“It's not him.””
I stared at her.
“How do you know?””
“Because if Victor wanted us dead, we'd already be dead.””
That didn't make me feel better.
Michael moved toward the curtains and lifted one corner.
“There's no vehicle.””
Dad frowned.
“I heard an engine.””
“So did I.””
Mom walked toward the hallway.
“Emily.””
I followed.
“Where are we going?””
“Back to the house.””
Michael shook his head.
“No.””
Mom looked at him.
“The second phone is there.””
“So is Victor's surveillance.””
“And the archive.””
Michael's jaw tightened.
“We can search for it remotely.””
“No,” Mom said.
“We can't.””
“Why?””
She looked at me.
“Because the archive wasn't stored electronically.””
Dad finished the sentence.
“It was stored in the basement.””
I stopped.
“Our basement?””
Mom nodded.
“The red door.””
The memory returned instantly.
Smoke.
A concrete staircase.
A red door.
A man's hand.
I grabbed the wall.
“I've seen it.””
Dad turned.
“What?””
“In my memory.””
Michael studied me.
“What exactly?””
“The basement.””
Mom's face went pale.
“Emily, you were three.””
“I remember the door.””
“What else?””
“A table.””
Michael said, “Anything written on it?””
I closed my eyes.
“Numbers.””
“What numbers?””
“I don't know.””
Dad walked toward me.
“Try again.””
I opened my eyes.
“Three-seven-one.””
Dad froze.
Michael noticed.
“What?””
Dad didn't answer.
“Daniel.””
He finally said, “That was the archive access code.””
My stomach dropped.
“How could I remember it?””
Mom whispered, “Because you heard it that night.””
Michael looked toward the door.
“We're going back.””
Dad shook his head.
“No.””
“We don't have a choice.””
“We absolutely do.””
Michael pointed at me.
“She's the only person who can remember the code.””
Dad stared at him.
“And that's exactly why Victor wants her.””
Mom stepped between them.
“She goes nowhere alone.””
Michael nodded.
“Agreed.””
We left the safe house twenty minutes later.
The drive back felt longer than the drive away.
Nobody spoke.
I sat between Mom and Dad in the back seat.
Neither of them touched me.
That hurt more than I expected.
I kept thinking about the words Victor had said.
She was carrying you.
What could I possibly have had to do with any of this?
When we reached our neighborhood, the house looked untouched.
No police.
No black SUVs.
No broken window.
Just our porch light glowing softly.
Dad stared at it.
“Too quiet.””
Michael parked two houses away.
“We go in through the back.””
Mom took my hand.
“Stay close.””
We crossed the yard.
The back door was unlocked.
Michael raised his weapon.
He entered first.
Nothing.
The kitchen looked exactly as we'd left it.
The broken glass had been cleared.
The blood on the floor was gone.
I stared.
“Who cleaned this?””
Dad shook his head.
“Nobody.””
Michael crouched near the doorway.
“There are footprints.””
I looked down.
Wet shoe prints crossed the floor.
They led toward the basement.
My heart began pounding.
“Someone's inside.””
Michael nodded.
“Stay behind me.””
We reached the basement door.
The red door.
I touched the brass handle.
My fingers began shaking.
Mom whispered, “You don't have to do this.””
“Yes, I do.””
I opened it.
The smell hit me first.
Damp concrete.
Dust.
Something metallic.
Michael turned on his flashlight.
The stairs descended into darkness.
I took one step.
Then another.
A memory flashed.
My tiny hand gripping the railing.
Mom carrying me.
Ethan shouting.
A door slamming.
I stopped.
“What?””
Dad looked at me.
“Nothing.””
“No.””
I looked at him.
“I remember you.””
His expression changed.
“From that night.””
He said nothing.
“You were carrying me.””
“Yes.””
“You weren't pretending to be my father yet.””
“No.””
“You knew me before I knew you.””
Dad looked away.
“Yes.””
We reached the bottom.
The basement was larger than I remembered.
Concrete walls.
A metal table.
An old electrical panel.
And a wooden cabinet in the corner.
Michael walked toward it.
“Archive?””
Dad nodded.
He entered the code.
Three.
Seven.
One.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
I stared at the cabinet.
“No.””
Everyone turned.
“There's another number.””
“What?”” Michael asked.
“Three-seven-one.””
“Yes.””
“Then four.””
Dad looked at me.
“Four?””
I nodded.
“Three-seven-one-four.””
He entered it.
A hidden compartment clicked open.
Inside was a black metal box.
Michael reached for it.
Dad stopped him.
“Wait.””
“Why?””
“Because Victor designed the system.””
Michael slowly withdrew his hand.
“What are you saying?””
Dad pointed toward the box.
“It's trapped.””
Michael examined it.
“Pressure sensor?””
“Yes.””
Mom whispered, “Then how do we open it?””
I stared at the box.
A strange feeling came over me.
Like remembering a dream.
I stepped forward.
“There's a key.””
Dad looked at me.
“What key?””
I held up the brass key.
Mom's face went white.
“Emily, no.””
“It fits.””
I inserted it.
The lock turned.
Nothing exploded.
The lid opened.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
Documents.
A small memory card.
And a child's blue stuffed rabbit.
I stopped breathing.
“That was mine.””
Mom covered her mouth.
I reached for it.
A tiny section of the rabbit's stomach had been cut open and sewn shut.
Michael carefully opened the seam.
Inside was a plastic sleeve.
The memory card was gone.
Dad swore.
Someone had already taken it.
Then Michael noticed a piece of paper beneath the rabbit.
He unfolded it.
His eyes narrowed.
“What?””
He handed it to me.
There were only six words.
*THE ARCHIVE WAS NEVER THE EVIDENCE.*
I looked at Dad.
“What does that mean?””
He didn't answer.
Mom did.
“It means the files were a distraction.””
“For what?””
She looked at the rabbit.
“For you.””
A sound came from the stairs.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Someone was coming down.
Michael raised his weapon.
“Who's there?””
No answer.
Then a man's voice echoed through the basement.
“You finally remembered.””
My blood went cold.
Victor.
Dad stepped in front of me.
“Stay back.””
Victor laughed.
“You always did that, Daniel.””
Michael shouted, “Victor Kane!””
The footsteps stopped.
A figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
He didn't come down.
He simply stood in the shadows.
Then he said:
“Ask Sarah why Emily was born.””
Mom collapsed against the wall.
May you like
And Dad whispered something I had never heard him say before.
“Because she isn't our daughter.””
