Chapter 2: Three Knocks From Underground
I didn't move for several seconds.
The three knocks seemed to echo inside my skull.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Then Noah slipped his small hand into mine.
“Daddy, she knows you're here.””
Claire shook her head violently.
“No. No, this isn't happening.””
I turned toward her.
“What isn't happening?””
She backed away from the cellar.
“Ethan, listen to me. We need to go inside. Right now.””
“Why?””
“Because this is dangerous.””
I looked at the hammer in Noah's hands.
“What's dangerous is whatever is locked under this garden.””
My mother suddenly grabbed my sleeve.
“Ethan, please. Don't do something you'll regret.””
I stared at her.
“Mom, how do you know there's something to regret?””
She didn't answer.
Instead, she looked toward the house.
For a moment, I wondered whether my mother and my wife were both waiting for someone.
Someone who hadn't arrived yet.
I pulled my phone out again and dialed 911.
Claire rushed toward me.
“Don't!””
I stepped back.
“Get away from me.””
“You don't understand what you're doing!””
“Then explain it!””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
The dispatcher answered, and I gave our address. I told her there might be someone trapped inside an underground cellar and that we needed emergency assistance.
When I mentioned the possibility of a woman being held against her will, Claire turned away.
My mother began crying.
“Please, Ethan,” she whispered.
I ended the call and looked at her.
“Did you know Emily was here?””
Mom shook her head.
“No.””
“Then why are you crying?””
She wiped her cheeks with trembling fingers.
“Because I thought this day would never come.””
The words hit me harder than the knocks.
“What does that mean?””
Mom lowered her eyes.
Before she could respond, a metallic scraping sound came from beneath the door.
Then a woman's voice floated through the narrow gap.
“Ethan?””
My heart nearly stopped.
It was faint.
Hoarse.
But I knew that voice.
I'd heard it thousands of times. I'd heard it singing lullabies, laughing at terrible television jokes, and whispering my name when she wanted me to wake up.
Emily.
I dropped to my knees.
“Emily?””
Noah began sobbing.
“Mommy!””
Claire rushed toward the cellar and kicked the wooden door.
“SHUT UP!””
The entire garden went still.
I slowly turned toward her.
She was breathing hard, her fists clenched.
“What did you just say?””
Claire looked at me.
For the first time, she didn't bother pretending to be frightened for Noah.
“Ethan, please. You need to think.””
“Think about what?””
“Your son. Your family. Your future.””
I stood up.
“My family is underneath that door.””
Claire's face twisted.
“Your family is standing right here!””
“No,” I said.
“My family is calling for help.””
I turned toward the lock.
The hammer was still in Noah's hands.
I gently took it from him.
“Stay beside Grandma, buddy.””
He shook his head.
“I want Mommy.””
“I know, sweetheart. I'm going to get her.””
Claire grabbed my shoulder.
“If you break that lock, you will destroy everything.””
I pulled away.
“Then it deserves to be destroyed.””
I swung the hammer.
The first strike barely dented the rusted metal.
The second made the lock jerk against its chain.
On the third, the old padlock snapped.
It fell onto the stone path.
My mother gasped.
Claire screamed again.
But I didn't stop.
I pulled the heavy handle.
The cellar door barely moved.
Something was holding it from the other side.
I leaned my shoulder against it.
“Emily! Move away from the door!””
A weak voice answered.
“I can't.””
“What do you mean you can't?””
“My legs…”
My throat tightened.
I pushed harder.
The door creaked open several inches.
A smell rose from the darkness.
Damp earth. Mold. Stale air.
And something medicinal.
I used my phone flashlight to look inside.
A narrow stone staircase descended into the ground. At the bottom, I could make out a small room with a metal chair, an old mattress, and several plastic containers.
Then the light caught a pale hand.
A woman's hand.
“Emily!””
I started down the steps.
Claire grabbed my coat.
“Ethan, don't go down there!””
I spun around.
“Get your hands off me!””
“You can't trust what she tells you!””
I stared at her.
“Why?””
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
“Because she's not the person you remember.””
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“You've been married to me for eighteen months. You've held my son. You've slept beside me. And you expect me to believe you don't know why my first wife is locked in a basement?””
Claire said nothing.
I descended three steps.
Then four.
The woman at the bottom shifted.
Her face appeared in the flashlight beam.
She was thinner than I remembered. Her hair hung in tangled strands around her shoulders. Her skin was pale, and dark circles surrounded her eyes.
But those eyes…
Those were Emily's eyes.
She lifted her head.
“Ethan?””
I almost fell down the remaining stairs.
I reached her and dropped to my knees.
“Oh my God.””
She reached for my face with trembling fingers.
“Is Noah okay?””
I couldn't speak.
Even after everything, even after three years, her first question was about our son.
I pulled her into my arms.
“Emily. You're alive.””
She started crying against my shoulder.
“I told them you would come.””
“Who?””
She pulled away and looked toward the staircase.
Her expression changed.
“Don't let Claire come down.””
I glanced up.
Claire was standing at the entrance.
Her hand rested on the doorframe.
“Emily,” she said quietly.
My first wife flinched.
Not the way someone reacts when they see an old acquaintance.
The way someone reacts when they see the person who has hurt them.
I stood between them.
“Claire, stay upstairs.””
Claire slowly shook her head.
“Ethan, you need to hear the truth.””
Emily grabbed my wrist.
“Don't listen to her.””
Claire took one step down.
“She's lying to you.””
Emily began trembling.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Don't let her touch me again.””
I looked at the woman I'd shared eighteen months of marriage with.
“Did you do this?””
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
Then she said something that made my stomach turn.
“I didn't put her here.””
I waited.
Claire swallowed.
“I was only supposed to keep her quiet.””
My entire body went cold.
“Who told you to?””
She looked past me, toward Emily.
And then she said the name.
“Margaret.””
I turned toward the staircase.
My mother stood at the top.
She was holding a small silver key.
“Mom?””
She didn't move.
“Ethan, come upstairs.””
I stared at her.
“Tell me she's lying.””
Mom looked down at Emily.
Then she looked at me.
“I wish I could.””
A distant siren sounded beyond the garden walls.
The police were coming.
May you like
My mother closed her fingers around the key.
And for the first time in my life, I realized I might never have known the woman who raised me.
