Chapter 9: The Door We Should Have Locked
The police searched my house before we left my parents’ home.
Every room.
Every window.
Every possible entrance.
But they found nothing.
No fingerprints.
No cameras.
No evidence anyone had been inside.
That somehow made it worse.
Because it meant whoever had been watching us knew how not to be found.
James didn’t let Emma out of his arms the entire night.
He sat beside her crib, awake.
Watching.
Protecting.
I stood in the doorway and watched him.
“You should sleep.””
He looked at me.
“I’m fine.””
“You haven’t slept properly in days.””
He looked back at Emma.
“I missed nine months of her life.””
My heart hurt.
“You were serving your country.””
“I know.””
He smiled sadly.
“But I missed her first laugh. Her first tooth. The first time she rolled over.””
He reached through the crib and touched Emma’s tiny hand.
“I’m not missing anything else.””
I walked over and sat beside him.
“I’m sorry.””
He looked confused.
“For what?””
“For bringing all this into your life.””
His expression changed immediately.
“Claire.””
“I mean it.””
“No.””
His voice was firm.
“You don’t apologize for someone else’s choices.””
I looked down.
“That’s what I do.””
“I know.””
He took my hand.
“And you need to stop.””
For the first time all day, I let myself cry.
Not because I was scared.
Because I was tired.
Tired of secrets.
Tired of being strong.
Tired of discovering new pieces of myself every few hours.
The next morning, Detective Harris arrived.
He looked serious.
“Mr. and Mrs. Walker.””
James stood.
“What happened?””
“We found something.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
He placed a photograph on the table.
It was security footage.
A man standing outside my house.
Victor.
I knew immediately.
Not because I recognized him.
Because of his eyes.
Cold.
Patient.
Watching.
“He was there three nights ago,” Detective Harris said.
James frowned.
“Why didn’t the alarm go off?””
“Because he didn’t enter.””
I looked at the picture.
“Then why was he there?””
Detective Harris hesitated.
“He left something.””
He placed another evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a small stuffed rabbit.
Emma’s stuffed rabbit.
The one James bought before coming home.
My blood turned cold.
“That was in her room.””
James immediately grabbed the bag.
“He touched her things?””
Detective Harris nodded.
“And there’s more.””
He pulled out another item.
A handwritten note.
I already knew what it said before I read it.
Because the handwriting matched the previous message.
*Claire,*
*You spent your whole life believing they saved you.*
*They didn’t.*
*They stole you from me.*
My hands shook.
“Why does he think I belong to him?””
Nobody answered.
Then Daniel spoke.
“Because he’s always believed that.””
Everyone turned.
Daniel stood near the door.
He looked older than yesterday.
Broken.
But determined.
“He doesn’t see people as people.””
He looked at Emma’s rabbit.
“He sees them as possessions.””
James stared at him.
“Then help us stop him.””
Daniel nodded.
“I will.””
I looked at him.
“You really think you can fix this?””
His eyes met mine.
“No.””
A pause.
“I think I can finally stop running.””
Later that afternoon, we returned home.
The police had checked everything.
The locks were changed.
The security system upgraded.
For the first time in days, I thought maybe we could breathe.
Then Emma started crying.
I picked her up.
“It’s okay, baby.””
She calmed almost instantly.
I kissed her forehead.
And then I noticed something.
A small white envelope tucked beneath her blanket.
My heart stopped.
I knew it wasn’t there before.
I opened it slowly.
Inside was a single photograph.
A baby.
A newborn.
Me.
May you like
On the back, written in faded ink, were four words:
*The night you disappeared.*
