Chapter 1: Behind the Paint
The first thing the woman behind my wall said was my son’s name.
“Elijah…”
Her voice was barely louder than a breath.
I stood frozen in the opening where our hallway wall had been thirty seconds earlier, one hand still resting on the tiny red button my five-year-old had discovered beneath a layer of paint.
Behind me, my wife, Claire, made a sound like she’d forgotten how to breathe.
That was when I knew.
She knew this woman.
And somehow, the woman knew our son.
“Daddy?”” Elijah tugged my shirt.
“Who is she?””
I immediately stepped backward and blocked his view.
“Go to the living room, buddy.””
“But—”
“Now, Elijah.””
He stared at me, confused by my tone.
I never spoke to him like that.
He slowly walked toward the living room, still clutching the blue crayon he’d been using when he found the button.
I waited until he disappeared around the corner.
Then I turned.
“Claire.””
My wife stood beneath the hallway light wearing the gray sweater she’d left for work in that morning. Her handbag had slipped from her shoulder and hung from one hand.
She wasn’t looking at me.
She was staring into the room.
“Who is she?””
Claire swallowed.
“Daniel…”
“Who is she?””
The woman inside shifted weakly.
The room smelled of damp concrete and something metallic. There was no window. A thin mattress lay against one wall beside several empty water bottles.
My stomach turned.
The woman looked perhaps twenty-five.
Maybe younger.
Dark hair covered part of her bruised face. Her wrists appeared secured together in front of her.
I crouched several feet away.
“I’m Daniel Mercer. I’m going to get help.””
Her eyes widened.
“No.””
I stopped.
“No police,” she whispered.
Claire suddenly moved.
“Daniel, come out of there.””
I looked over my shoulder.
“What?””
“We need to talk first.””
I stared at her.
“There is a woman hidden inside our house.””
“I know what this looks like.””
“What it looks like?””
My voice rose.
Claire glanced toward the living room.
“Keep your voice down. Elijah can hear you.””
I pulled out my phone.
Claire’s face changed instantly.
“Daniel, don’t.””
That frightened me more than anything else.
I held the phone tighter.
“Give me one reason.””
The woman on the floor lifted her head.
“Because Claire didn’t put me here.””
Silence.
I looked at her.
Then at my wife.
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
The woman continued.
“She found me.””
“Found you where?””
“Here.””
My skin went cold.
We had lived in this house for almost three years.
I had replaced flooring, repainted bedrooms, repaired pipes, installed shelves.
And all that time, there had been a room behind our hallway wall.
“How long?”” I asked.
Neither woman answered.
“How long have you been in here?””
The woman lowered her eyes.
“Eleven days.””
I felt sick.
“You’re telling me you’ve been behind this wall for eleven days?””
“Yes.””
“And my wife knew?””
“Daniel,” Claire whispered.
I stood.
“Eleven days, Claire.””
“I was trying to figure out what to do.””
“You call the police!””
“You don’t understand.””
“Then make me understand.””
Claire looked toward the living room again.
“Elijah cannot hear this.””
As if summoned by his name, our son appeared around the corner.
He held a piece of paper.
“I made her a picture.””
My heart clenched.
“Elijah, buddy, I told you to stay—”
The woman inside suddenly began crying.
Not loudly.
That made it worse.
She stared at my son as though she were looking at someone she had lost.
Elijah stepped closer to me.
“Why does she know my name?””
I looked at Claire.
She closed her eyes.
“Elijah,” she said gently, “go upstairs.””
“But Mommy—”
“Please.””
He hesitated, then placed his drawing on the floor near the hidden doorway.
It showed our house beneath an enormous yellow sun.
Three stick figures stood outside.
Me.
Claire.
Elijah.
The woman stared at it.
Then she whispered, “He draws the sun exactly like you did.””
Claire went white.
I turned slowly toward her.
“What did she just say?””
Claire said nothing.
The woman lifted her face.
For the first time, I noticed something beneath the bruises.
Her eyes.
Green.
Exactly like Claire’s.
“Daniel,” Claire said, “please don’t ask her anything else.””
I stared between them.
A terrible possibility formed in my mind.
“You’re related.””
Claire’s mouth trembled.
The woman answered instead.
“She’s my sister.””
I actually laughed once because the alternative was believing her.
Claire had no sister.
At least, that was what she had told me for eight years.
“My wife is an only child.””
“No,” the woman whispered.
“She isn’t.””
I looked at Claire.
She slowly sat against the hallway wall.
“My parents told everyone she died.””
The house seemed to tilt beneath me.
“What?””
Claire covered her face.
“Her name is Rebecca.””
From upstairs came the soft thump of Elijah moving around his bedroom.
Rebecca stared at the ceiling.
Then she said something that made every hair on my arms rise.
“And if they find out Claire opened this room, they’ll come back for Elijah.””
At that exact moment, someone knocked on our front door.
Three slow knocks.
Claire looked up.
Pure terror crossed her face.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
May you like
A message appeared.
*CLOSE THE WALL.*
