Chapter 4 - The Voice Behind the Wall

I knew the voice was meant to sound like a warning. To Adrian it sounded like a ghost.

“Laurel?” He stepped toward the ceiling speaker. “Laurel, where are you?”

A burst of static. Then: “She’s not who she says she is.”

The message repeated word for word. Recorded, not live.

I opened a cabinet and found a small digital player connected to an ancient intercom. The file was labeled L_VALE_FINAL_02. Someone had spent time staging this room.

Adrian looked from the player to me. “Why would anyone do this?”

“Because somebody expected you to come here,” I said.

Sophie spotted a drawing near the window. She pulled away from me and pointed at the corner. “That’s Aunt June.”

A woman in the sketch stood beneath a yellow umbrella. Her face was only a circle and two dots, but beside her was a large blue X.

“Who’s Aunt June?” Adrian asked.

Sophie pressed her lips together. “I’m not supposed to say.”

We heard running feet in the hallway. Adrian shoved a rolling medical cart against the door just before the handle turned.

“Mr. Vale,” Kessler called. “Please open up.”

Adrian took out his phone. No signal.

“Jammer,” I said. “Or this wing is shielded.”

I checked the cabinet again. Inside were patient records stripped of names, meal charts, and a black binder with dates stretching back two years. Nearly every page carried the same initials: J.B.

At the back I found a folded maintenance order requesting the replacement of the fourth-floor lock. Approved by Kessler. Requested by V. Vale.

The lock clicked from outside.

Adrian dragged a metal chair under the handle. The door jolted.

Sophie started crying without making a sound. I crouched to her level. “Look at me. Count my fingers.”

“One. Two. Three.”

“Good. Keep going.”

Adrian opened the window. Four stories below, the loading dock was crowded with delivery trucks. Too far to jump. He looked at the fire escape bolted against the neighboring wall.

“Can you carry her?”

“Yes.”

The door shuddered again. I tucked the binder under my shirt. Adrian pulled the window upward, letting freezing air roll into the room.

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We climbed onto the narrow ledge. Sophie’s mitten snagged the sill. As I freed it, she whispered in my ear, “Aunt June is the lady who looked after Mommy.”

Then she added, “She said Mommy wasn’t dead until she met Daddy again.”