Chương 9
The painted flowers.
The yellow blanket.
The hospital bracelet.
The old bed.
The smell behind the hidden door.
Pieces that had seemed supernatural because I had no ordinary explanation for them.
What if the explanation was ordinary enough to be worse?
What if somebody had physically moved objects from St. Vincent’s into my house?
“What did Arthur Bell do for a living?” I asked.
Rachel stared.
“The previous owner?”
“Yes.”
“You said you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t.”
Mark handed Ethan to Rachel and took out his phone.
I gave him the full name and approximate age from the closing documents.
He searched.
The first result was an obituary.
Arthur Bell had died eight months before Claire gave birth.
I felt a brief rush of disappointment that embarrassed me.
Then Mark scrolled.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There’s another Arthur Bell.”
“Same city?”
“Yes.”
He turned the screen toward me.
The obituary was for Arthur Bell Senior.
His surviving son was listed beneath the photograph.
Arthur Bell Junior.
Occupation: facilities supervisor at St. Vincent’s Medical Center.
Nobody spoke.
Mark read it twice.
Rachel said, “That could be coincidence.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“You’re not allowed to hate me for saying that.”
“I don’t.”
“You look like you do.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Mark searched the younger Bell’s name.
A professional networking profile appeared.
Facilities operations.
Twenty-three years at St. Vincent’s.
Retired the previous summer.
I asked, “When did we buy the house?”
Rachel answered before I could.
“Fourteen months ago.”
The sale had closed two weeks before Claire went into labor.
Arthur Bell Junior had signed the deed.
I remembered him now.
Thin man.
Gray mustache.
Quiet.
He had attended closing with a leather folder and apologized because one of the garage remotes was missing.
Claire had made small talk with him about the neighborhood.
He had asked when the baby was due.
My stomach turned.
“He knew.”
Rachel said, “Knew what?”
“That Claire was pregnant.”
“Lots of people knew.”
“He owned the house.”
“That doesn’t mean he did anything.”
“I know.”
I forced myself to say it.
“I know.”
Mark had already found an address.
Bell lived thirty-five minutes away in a retirement community outside the city.
Rachel said, “Do not go there.”
“I’m not.”
She stared until I met her eyes.
“I’m not.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
All four of us froze.
Mark checked the porch camera on his phone.
“It’s a detective.”
Warren entered carrying my phone in an evidence bag.
He did not give it back.
That told me enough.
“Mr. Hale, we need to talk.”
“About Arthur Bell?”
His expression changed.
Rachel whispered, “Well, there goes our five-minute head start.”
Warren looked at her.
“What do you know about Bell?”
I told him what we had found.
He listened without interruption.
When I finished, he removed a small notebook from his jacket.
“We independently identified his employment history.”
“You knew already.”
“For about twenty minutes.”
“Is he a suspect?”
“I’m not using that word yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t know what happened.”
“Melissa was locked inside his old house.”
“Yes.”
“My wife’s belongings are there.”
“Yes.”
“He worked at the hospital where my wife and son disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not using the word suspect.”
Warren closed the notebook.
“I’m trying to determine whether Bell is alive.”
The room shifted.
“What?”
“He has not been seen by his neighbors in several days.”
Rachel asked, “Did you go to his house?”
“Officers are there now.”
I looked toward Ethan.
He had started chewing the ear of his stuffed rabbit.
“Melissa said somebody was with her.”
Warren nodded.
“Her initial statement at the hospital was limited.”
“What did she say?”
“That she entered the passage voluntarily.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“She believed someone was living inside your house.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t know.”
“Then why go in?”
“Because she had been hearing movement behind the walls while caring for Ethan.”
Rachel’s face tightened.
Warren continued.
“Ms. Carter became concerned after finding food wrappers in the upstairs passage.”
“Food wrappers?”
“They were collected tonight.”
I pictured the clean crescent in the dust.
The knock.
The voice.
Someone moving inches from Ethan’s bedroom while I slept down the hall.
Warren said, “She went into the passage six days ago to investigate.”
“The night she quit.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she call me?”
“She says she intended to.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She reached the basement room.”
Warren stopped.
I waited.
“Then someone closed the access door behind her.”
“Bell?”
“She never saw the person.”
My frustration broke through.
“Then why was she afraid of me?”
Warren studied me for several seconds.
“Because while she was trapped down there, someone came to the other side of the wall every night.”
The room became quiet.
“What did they do?”
“They talked to her.”
My throat tightened.
“What did they say?”
Warren’s gaze moved briefly toward Ethan.
“Mostly that nobody would believe her.”
“And?”
“She says the man told her the homeowner already knew.”
Rachel whispered, “Jesus.”
I asked, “Why would she believe that?”
“Because he knew things about you.”
“What things?”
“Your schedule.”
My skin went cold.
“Your wife.”
Warren paused.
“Your son.”
Ethan suddenly stopped chewing the rabbit.
His head turned toward the corner beside the fireplace.
The digital clock on Mark’s microwave changed to 9:14.
Ethan slid from Rachel’s lap.
This time none of us stopped him.
He walked to the wall and pressed both palms against it.
Warren watched.
Ethan whispered, “Man.”
My heart began pounding.
“Buddy?”
He shook his head.
“Man gone.”
Warren stepped closer.
“Gone where?”
I almost told him not to question Ethan.
Then Ethan answered without looking back.
“Baby room.”
A phone vibrated in Warren’s pocket.
He checked the screen.
Every trace of color left his face.
“What?” I said.
He did not answer immediately.
Then he looked at me.
“Officers found Arthur Bell.”
“Where?”
Warren slipped the phone away.
“Not at his residence.”
May you like
I waited.
“He was found twenty minutes ago in an abandoned service building behind St. Vincent’s.”
