Chapter 3: The Voice Beneath the Garden
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Noah's little voice kept repeating itself in my head.
Claire put her there.
I looked at my wife.
She was shaking her head before I even spoke.
“Ethan, he's three. He doesn't understand what he's saying.””
“Then explain why he knows there's someone beneath that door.””
“He's confused!””
“About what?””
Claire stepped toward me.
“Give me Noah.””
I moved away.
“No.””
Her face changed.
“I'm his stepmother.””
“And I'm his father.””
My mother began crying harder.
“Please, both of you. We need to calm down.””
I turned on her.
“You've known about this for three years.””
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she walked toward the cellar.
“There's something you need to see.””
Claire immediately grabbed her wrist.
“Margaret, don't.””
Mom looked at her.
“You've had enough time.””
Then she pulled free and knelt beside the old lock.
I watched as she reached beneath a loose stone near the doorframe.
Her fingers found something hidden there.
A small brass key.
I stared.
“You had the key this entire time?””
Mom nodded.
“I kept it because I was afraid someone would use it.””
“Who?””
She looked directly at Claire.
“Someone who knew exactly what was down there.””
Claire took a step backward.
“Margaret, don't you dare.””
Mom inserted the key.
It turned with a dry metallic click.
The lock fell open.
A cold smell drifted up from the narrow gaps between the wooden panels.
Damp earth.
Rotting wood.
And something faintly familiar.
Lavender.
Emily's perfume.
I felt my knees weaken.
“Mom,” I whispered.
“What is down there?””
Mom closed her eyes.
“Your wife.””
The hammer slipped from my hand.
Claire screamed.
“No!””
She rushed forward and tried to pull my mother away from the door.
I caught her arm.
“Don't touch her!””
“Ethan, listen to me!””
“Three years, Claire! Three years!””
She began sobbing.
“You don't understand what happened!””
“Then tell me!””
She looked at the cellar.
And for the first time, she seemed to understand that there was no way to talk herself out of what was happening.
Mom lifted the cellar door.
The heavy wood groaned.
A narrow staircase appeared beneath it, descending into darkness.
There was a small yellow light glowing somewhere below.
I took out my phone and switched on the flashlight.
“Stay behind me.””
Mom grabbed my sleeve.
“Ethan, wait.””
I turned.
“What?””
She looked toward the open cellar.
“Whatever you find down there, remember that Emily was trying to save Noah.””
I stared at her.
“Save him from whom?””
Mom's lips trembled.
“Your father.””
My father had been dead for eight years.
Before I could ask anything else, a sound rose from below.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Noah suddenly struggled out of Daniel's arms.
“Mommy!””
He reached toward the staircase.
I caught him.
“Stay with me, buddy.””
A woman's voice drifted upward.
Weak.
Hoarse.
Almost impossible to hear.
But I recognized it.
“Ethan?””
My entire body stopped functioning.
I knew that voice.
I'd heard it in dreams for three years.
I'd listened to old recordings of it when I couldn't sleep.
“Emily?””
The voice came again.
“Ethan, please.””
My phone nearly slipped from my hand.
I turned toward Claire.
She was staring down the staircase, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“You knew,” I whispered.
Claire didn't answer.
“YOU KNEW!””
She finally looked at me.
“I didn't know she was still alive.””
“Then how did you know she was down there?””
Her lips trembled.
“Because I was the one who locked the door.””
My mother made a strangled sound.
Daniel stepped backward.
One of the guests began shouting for someone to call the police.
But I could hear nothing except the voice below.
“Ethan,” Emily called again.
“Don't let her come down.””
I looked at Claire.
She shook her head.
“She's lying.””
Another sound came from the cellar.
Something dragged across the floor.
Then Emily spoke again.
“Ethan, there's something you need to know about Noah.””
I leaned over the staircase.
“What? What about our son?””
Her voice cracked.
“Look at his left shoulder.””
I turned.
Noah's little shirt had slipped down slightly.
On his left shoulder was a small crescent-shaped birthmark.
I'd seen it thousands of times.
Emily had kissed it every night when he was a baby.
“What about it?”” I shouted.
A long silence followed.
Then Emily whispered:
“Your mother told you Noah was born early. She lied.””
I turned slowly toward Margaret.
Mom's face had gone completely blank.
Emily continued.
“Your son was born on the same night I discovered what your father had done. And the baby you held in the hospital wasn't the only child born that night.””
My mouth went dry.
“What are you saying?””
From somewhere beneath the cellar came a second woman's voice.
A voice that sounded exactly like Emily.
“Ethan?””
I stared into the darkness.
There were two women down there.
And one of them was laughing.
My mother suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Don't go down there,” she whispered.
I turned toward her.
“Why?””
She looked at Claire, then at the open cellar.
And her answer destroyed the last thing I believed about my family.
“Because the woman calling your name isn't Emily.””
At that exact moment, my phone lit up.
A new message from the unknown number.
*ASK YOUR MOTHER WHICH BABY SHE BROUGHT HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL.*
I looked at Margaret.
She began backing away.
May you like
And Noah, still clutching my shirt, whispered something that made my heart stop.
“Daddy, Grandma said I wasn't the first Noah.””
