Chapter 3 - The Basement Door

My wife had been dead for three years.

Lily barely remembered Anna’s voice.

So when I saw MOM written beneath a black X on the basement door, I stopped breathing.

“Where did she get this?” I asked.

Nora’s face was pale. “She pulled it from inside the bunny.”

I turned toward Lily.

She sat on the couch with her knees tucked under her dress.

“Baby, what does this mean?”

She pointed at the drawing.

“She said Mommy is downstairs.”

“Who said that?”

“Claire.”

Nora swore under her breath.

I went straight to the basement.

The door had a keypad lock I rarely used. Wine storage, old furniture, boxes from Anna’s hospital room—nothing Lily needed to see.

The keypad flashed red.

My code no longer worked.

I tried again.

Red.

Nora stood behind me. “Claire changed it?”

“Apparently.”

I grabbed a screwdriver from the garage and removed the keypad housing. Five minutes later the latch clicked.

The basement smelled different.

Not damp. Not dusty.

Bleach.

Fresh bleach.

I turned on the lights.

At first everything looked normal.

Then I saw Anna’s boxes.

They had been opened.

Her dresses were pulled out. Old letters were stacked on a folding table. Our wedding album sat open beside a pair of scissors.

Lily’s baby pictures had been removed.

Nora whispered, “What the hell?”

A small digital recorder sat beside the album.

I pressed play.

Static.

Then Anna’s voice filled the room.

“Ethan, if you’re hearing this, I probably didn’t get the chance to tell you myself…”

My knees nearly gave out.

I had never heard that recording.

Anna continued.

“There’s something wrong with the trust. Don’t sign anything Daniel brings you. And if anything happens to me, don’t let him near Lily.”

The recording ended.

Nora stared at me.

“Who’s Daniel?”

“My attorney.”

The same attorney handling my upcoming marriage agreement with Claire.

My phone rang.

Daniel Mercer.

I looked at Nora.

She looked at the recorder.

Then I answered.

“Ethan,” Daniel said, cheerful as always. “Good news. Claire stopped by my office this afternoon. We’re ready for your signature tomorrow.”

I stared at Anna’s cut-up wedding album.

“What exactly am I signing?” I asked.

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Daniel paused.

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