PART 5
Beyond it was a small underground room.
There was a flashlight on a table.
Two bottles of water.
Three blankets.
A first-aid kit.
And a wooden chair.
Someone had prepared this place.
Recently.
I stepped inside.
“What is this?”
Noah walked toward a shelf.
“Mommy showed me.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Before she disappeared.”
The word hit me harder than anything else.
Disappeared.
Not left.
Not traveled.
Not went away.
Disappeared.
I turned toward him.
“What happened to your mother?”
Noah’s eyes filled with tears.
“Daddy said she went away because she didn’t love us.”
Tyler whispered, “That’s not true.”
Noah shook his head.
“I know.”
He walked to the shelf and pulled out a small plastic box.
Inside were photographs.
My sister Emily.
Noah as a baby.
Emily standing beside Mark.
And several pictures of people I didn’t recognize.
I picked up one.
It showed Emily standing outside an office building.
Beside her was a man in a dark suit.
On the back, Emily had written:
M. Reynolds — Federal Investigator
I looked at Noah.
“Who is he?”
“Mommy said he was helping her.”
My heart began pounding again.
Another photograph showed Emily getting into a car.
Another showed Mark speaking to the same man.
Then I saw something that made my stomach twist.
A photograph of my own house.
Taken from across the street.
My house.
My driveway.
My bedroom window.
And the date written beneath it was six months earlier.
Someone had been watching us long before Noah arrived.
I turned the photograph over.
Emily had written four words.
They know about Sarah.
A sound came from the tunnel.
Someone was coming.
I quickly switched off the flashlight.
Darkness returned.
We crouched behind the table.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Careful.
Then a figure appeared at the tunnel entrance.
A flashlight beam swept across the room.
I held my breath.
The light moved over the shelves.
The photographs.
The blankets.
Then stopped.
The man stepped inside.
I couldn’t see his face.
He moved toward the table.
His flashlight suddenly pointed directly at us.
I pulled Tyler against me.
Noah whispered:
“Uncle David?”
The man froze.
Then lowered the flashlight.
“Sarah?”
I recognized the voice.
Mr. Foster.
Our neighbor.
The retired police officer.
He stepped closer.
“It’s me.”
I nearly collapsed from relief.
“What are you doing here?”
He looked at Noah.
Then at Tyler.
“Trying to keep you alive.”
I stared at him.
“You knew about this?”
He nodded.
“Your sister came to me three weeks ago.”
My heart stopped.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“She’s alive?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation terrified me more than an answer would have.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
Mr. Foster lowered his voice.
“She came to my house after midnight. She was terrified. She told me Mark was involved with something dangerous.”
“What?”
“I don’t know the whole story.”
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