Sarah stared at Rebecca Whitaker’s driver’s license as if she were staring at her own future.
“If something happens to me, David did it.”
The words seemed to hang in my kitchen long after Officer Ramirez finished reading them.
Leo stirred against Sarah’s chest.
She immediately held him tighter.
“When was that note written?” I asked.
Officer Ramirez looked at the evidence bag.
“There’s a date at the bottom.”
Sarah swallowed.

“What date?”
“October seventeenth. Seven years ago.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“That was three days before Rebecca disappeared.”
Nobody spoke.
Officer Collins slowly turned toward Ramirez.
“You’re sure?”
Sarah nodded.
“I remember because I searched her name once.”
David had told Sarah that Rebecca was an old girlfriend.
Then later, when Sarah discovered the photograph, he admitted Rebecca had actually been his wife.
But according to him, the marriage had been miserable.
Rebecca was supposedly unstable.
Jealous.

Manipulative.
Always threatening to leave.
Then one weekend, she drove alone into the mountains for a hiking trip.
Her vehicle was discovered two days later near a trailhead.
Her purse was inside.
Her jacket was inside.
Her phone was missing.
Rebecca never returned.
No body was found.
No arrest was made.
And eventually, David told everyone the same tragic story.
His troubled wife had disappeared.
Sarah looked at Officer Ramirez.
“He cried when he told me.”
The officer remained silent.
“He actually cried.”

Sarah laughed once.
It was a broken, horrified sound.
“He told me losing Rebecca destroyed him. He said that was why he became so protective of me.”
My stomach twisted.
Protective.
What a convenient word monsters sometimes choose for control.
Sarah continued.
“The first year we were together, he constantly said he was afraid I’d disappear too.”
Officer Collins asked, “When did his behavior toward you become controlling?”
Sarah thought.
“After we got engaged.”
“And physical?”
“After Leo was born.”
“Why then?”

Sarah looked down at her sleeping baby.
“Because once Leo came, David knew leaving would be harder.”
Ramirez and Collins exchanged a glance.
I understood what they were thinking.
So did Sarah.
Rebecca had tried to leave.
Then Rebecca disappeared.
Sarah had tried to leave.
And that morning, David had threatened that nobody would ever find her.
Officer Ramirez stepped into the hallway and made a phone call.
I could hear only pieces.
“Cold case.”
“Rebecca Whitaker.”
“Seven years.”
“Possible new evidence.”
Sarah sat at my kitchen table.
For several minutes, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “I could have become her.”
I pulled out the chair beside her.
“But you didn’t.”
“I almost did.”
“But you didn’t.”
“What if I hadn’t knocked on your door?”

I looked at the measuring cup still sitting beside the sink.
A stupid little plastic cup.
Three months earlier, I had been irritated every time I saw it.
Now I wanted to frame the thing.
“You did knock.”
Sarah looked at me.
“And somebody answered.”
I squeezed her hand.
Before she could respond, Officer Ramirez returned.
“We need Sarah and Leo moved somewhere David cannot access.”
Sarah stiffened.
“Is he being arrested?”
“He’s being detained while investigators determine what charges apply. But I don’t want to promise you anything about how long he’ll remain in custody.”
Sarah’s fear immediately returned.
“So he could come back tonight?”
“Potentially.”
I stood.
“Then she stays here.”
Ramirez shook her head.
“I wouldn’t recommend that.”
“This door locks.”
“David already forced his way through it.”
That shut me up.

She continued.
“He knows this apartment. He knows Sarah has been coming here. And now we know he may have entered your home without permission before.”
Sarah looked at me.
“I’m not putting you in danger.”
“You aren’t.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No. David is.”
“Eleanor—”
“Don’t argue with an old woman before lunch. We become unreasonable.”
For the first time since the police arrived, Officer Ramirez almost smiled.
Then Collins appeared in the doorway.
“Ramirez.”
Something in his tone erased the smile.
He held a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a small memory card.

“Where did that come from?” Ramirez asked.
“Recorder in 405.”
Sarah stared at it.
“What’s on it?”
“We’ll need forensics to process everything.”
Collins hesitated.
“But I listened to enough to know we have a bigger problem.”
Ramirez’s expression hardened.
“What did you hear?”
Collins looked at Sarah.
“David talking to someone.”
“Who?”
“Couldn’t identify the second voice.”
“What were they talking about?”
Collins lowered his voice.
“Sarah leaving.”

My skin prickled.
“When?”
“Recording is timestamped two nights ago.”
Sarah went completely still.
Two nights ago.
Before David confronted her about the prepaid phone.
Before her split lip.
Before she ran into my apartment.
“What did David say?” she whispered.
Collins didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said, “He told the other person that he thought you were preparing to run.”
Sarah gripped my hand.
“What else?”
“Sarah—”
“Please.”
Collins looked toward Ramirez.
She nodded.
“He said he needed to stop you before Friday.”
Sarah frowned.
“Friday?”
“What happens Friday?” Ramirez asked.
“Nothing.”
“Any appointments?”
“No.”
“Family visits?”
“No.”
“Travel?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Then I remembered something.
“Your sister.”
Sarah looked at me.
“What?”
“You told me your sister was supposed to be out of town until Friday.”

Her face changed.
“Yes.”
Sarah’s sister, Emily, lived in Denver.
She was supposed to return Friday afternoon.
Sarah’s original escape plan had been simple.
Get to the bus station.
Travel to Denver.
Emily would pick her up.
But two weeks earlier, Emily had mentioned she would be away on business until Friday.
David knew the Denver address.
If he had been listening through the recorder, he knew Emily’s schedule too.
Officer Ramirez immediately asked, “Do you have your sister’s number?”
Sarah nodded.
“I tried calling her five minutes ago.”
“And?”
“No answer.”
“Call again.”
Sarah dialed.
We listened.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Voicemail.

She tried again.
Nothing.
Her breathing quickened.
“She always answers.”
“She may be traveling,” I said.
Sarah shook her head.
“She texts me if she can’t answer.”
Officer Ramirez took the number and stepped away.
Sarah called again.
Voicemail.
Then again.
Nothing.
After the fourth attempt, her hands started shaking so violently that I took the phone from her.
“Sarah.”
“He knows where she lives.”
“We don’t know that he did anything.”
“He knows where she lives.”
Officer Ramirez returned.
“I’m asking Denver authorities to conduct a welfare check.”
Sarah nodded.
But she didn’t look reassured.
Neither did I.
Then my own phone rang.
Everyone jumped.
I looked at the screen.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
I almost ignored it.
Then something told me not to.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then breathing.
Slow.
Quiet.
Someone was there.
“Who is this?”
Sarah stared at me.
The breathing continued.
Then a woman whispered, “Mrs. Gable?”
My spine stiffened.
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Who are you?”
“I need you to listen carefully.”
Officer Ramirez immediately stepped closer.
I put the call on speaker.
The woman continued.
“You need to stop talking to the police.”
Ramirez’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because David isn’t the person you should be afraid of.”
Sarah’s face drained.
“Who is this?” I demanded.
The woman ignored me.
“Is Sarah with you?”
Sarah leaned toward the phone.
“Yes.”
The caller went silent.
Then she whispered, “Sarah, take your baby and leave.”
Sarah stared at the phone.
“Who are you?”
“You need to leave that building.”
“Why?”
“Because David never works alone.”
Officer Collins was already writing something down.
Sarah stood.
“What does that mean?”
The woman started crying.
Not loudly.
The kind of crying someone makes while desperately trying not to be heard.
“Please,” she whispered. “You have to believe me.”
Sarah moved closer to the phone.
“Tell me your name.”
Silence.
“Please.”
Another long pause.
Then the woman said something none of us expected.
“My name is Rebecca.”
Sarah stopped breathing.
I stared at Officer Ramirez.
Collins lowered his pen.
Even Leo seemed to become strangely quiet.
Sarah shook her head.
“No.”
The caller sobbed.
“I know what David told you.”
“No.”
“I know he said I disappeared.”
“You’re dead.”
“I’m not.”
Sarah grabbed the edge of the table.
Officer Ramirez stepped toward the phone.
“This is Officer Ramirez. If you are Rebecca Whitaker, tell me where you are.”
The woman inhaled sharply.
Then the call disconnected.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Rebecca?”
Dead line.
Sarah stared at me.
“That wasn’t her.”
I didn’t answer.
“It couldn’t be.”
Officer Collins was already contacting dispatch to trace the call.
Sarah began pacing.
“This is some trick David arranged.”
“That’s possible,” Ramirez said.
“Then why?”
“To frighten you. Confuse you. Discredit the investigation.”
But something bothered me.
The fear in that woman’s voice had sounded real.
I had spent three months listening to Sarah whisper through terror.
You learn what genuine fear sounds like.
And whoever had called me was afraid.
Very afraid.
Ten minutes later, Collins received information about the number.
“Prepaid phone,” he said.
“Registered?”
“No.”
“Location?”
“Last tower connection was about eleven miles from here.”
Sarah looked at him.
“So she’s nearby?”
“Possibly.”
Then Officer Ramirez’s radio crackled.
She answered.
The conversation lasted less than thirty seconds.
But I watched her expression change with every word.
Finally, she lowered the radio.
“What?” Sarah asked.
Ramirez looked at her.
“The Denver police reached your sister’s house.”
Sarah grabbed my hand.
“And?”
“Emily isn’t there.”
Sarah’s fingernails dug into my skin.
“Where is she?”
“They don’t know.”
“Was there a break-in?”
Ramirez hesitated.
“The front door was unlocked.”
Sarah started crying.
“No.”
“And there were signs someone had been inside recently.”
“No.”
“Sarah—”
“No!”
She rushed toward the door.
Collins blocked her gently.
“Where are you going?”
“To Denver.”
“You cannot go anywhere alone right now.”
“My sister could be hurt!”
“We’re working on locating her.”
“You don’t understand!”
Sarah pointed toward the evidence on my table.
“David heard everything! He knew Emily was helping me!”
Officer Ramirez took Sarah by the shoulders.
“Listen to me. Going to Denver right now will not help your sister. We need you somewhere secure.”
Sarah covered her face.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text message.
Unknown number.
For one second, I assumed it was Rebecca again.
It wasn’t.
There was a photograph attached.
I opened it.
My blood turned cold.
The photograph showed Sarah’s sister, Emily.
Alive.
Sitting in what appeared to be the back seat of a vehicle.
Her face was frightened.
A piece of silver tape covered her mouth.
Sarah saw the screen.
The scream that came out of her made Leo wake and begin crying.
Officer Ramirez grabbed the phone.
Beneath the photograph was one sentence.
DON’T LET SARAH TALK ABOUT REBECCA.
Then another message arrived.
A second photograph.
This one was older.
Much older.
It showed David standing beside a mountain trail.
And several feet behind him stood a woman with long brown hair.
Rebecca.
But David wasn’t the detail that made Officer Ramirez whisper, “Oh my God.”
There was another man standing beside him.
A man I recognized instantly.
I had seen him hundreds of times.
In the hallway.
At the mailboxes.
Fixing broken lights.
Replacing locks.
Entering apartments whenever tenants weren’t home.
Our building superintendent.
Mr. Harris.
And suddenly I understood how that listening device had gotten inside my tea tin without anyone forcing my kitchen window.
David hadn’t needed to break into my apartment.
He had someone with a master key.
Someone who had been watching Sarah walk through my door every morning.
Someone who could enter any apartment in the building whenever he pleased.
I looked toward my damaged front door.
Then toward Officer Ramirez.
“We need to leave.”
She nodded.
But before anyone moved, the elevator bell chimed at the end of the corridor.
Officer Collins looked through the doorway.
His hand immediately moved toward his radio.
“What is it?” Ramirez asked.
Collins slowly backed into my apartment.
“The superintendent.”
Sarah clutched Leo.
My heart began pounding.
“Mr. Harris?”
Collins nodded.
“He just stepped off the elevator.”
Then we heard a familiar voice from the hallway.
Calm.
Friendly.
Almost cheerful.
“Mrs. Gable?”
I gripped my cane.
Mr. Harris walked closer.
“I heard you were having trouble with your door.”
Officer Ramirez reached for her holster.
Then Harris said something that made every person inside my apartment freeze.
“I’m here to fix the lock.”
And hidden behind his right leg…
was a black duffel bag.

PART 5 — THE MAN WITH THE MASTER KEY

Mr. Harris stopped six feet from my doorway.
The black duffel bag hung from his right hand.
For years, I had known him as the man who changed hallway bulbs, unclogged sinks, accepted packages, and complained whenever residents left cardboard boxes beside the recycling bins.
Now I was looking at the photograph on my phone.
Seven years earlier.
A mountain trail.
David.
Rebecca.
And Harris standing beside them.
“Mrs. Gable?” Harris called again. “Everything okay?”
Officer Collins moved into the hallway.
“Put the bag down.”
Harris blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Put the bag on the floor.”
Harris looked toward my apartment.
Then at Collins.
His friendly expression remained perfectly intact.
“I’m just here to repair her lock.”
“We didn’t call maintenance.”
Harris smiled.
“Somebody reported damage.”
“Who?”
The smile weakened.
“I don’t know. Front office.”
Collins extended his hand.
“Bag. Floor. Now.”
For one second, Harris didn’t move.
Then he slowly lowered the duffel bag.
Sarah whispered behind me.
“He has keys.”
Officer Ramirez looked at her.
“What?”
“Master keys. He has keys to every apartment.”
Ramirez immediately radioed for another unit.
Harris heard her.
His expression changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
The cheerful superintendent disappeared for half a second.
Then he returned.
“Officers, I think there’s been some misunderstanding.”
Collins pointed toward the wall.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Harris raised both hands.
“What exactly is this about?”
“Turn around.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Turn around.”
Harris slowly faced the wall.
Collins approached him.
That was when Harris ran.
He didn’t head toward the elevator.
He sprinted for the stairwell.
“Stop!”
Collins chased him.
Ramirez ran after them.
The stairwell door slammed.
Sarah and I were suddenly alone.
I locked what remained of my damaged door.
Sarah stood motionless, holding Leo.
“Why would he run?”
I looked at the black duffel bag still sitting in the hallway.
“Because innocent maintenance men usually don’t.”
Sarah stared at it.
“Do you think Emily is in this building?”
I didn’t want to answer.
Because the thought had already occurred to me.
If Harris had access to every apartment, every storage room, every maintenance closet…
there were dozens of places someone could be hidden.
Then we heard shouting from the stairwell.
A crash.
More shouting.
And silence.
Two minutes later, Ramirez returned.
“Harris is in custody.”
Sarah exhaled.
“Did he say anything?”
“No.”
Ramirez looked toward the duffel bag.
“Stay inside.”
Another officer arrived and photographed it before carefully opening the zipper.
I watched from the doorway.
The first thing he removed was a roll of duct tape.
Sarah went pale.
Then came zip ties.
A flashlight.
Two prepaid phones.
A screwdriver.
Several syringes sealed inside plastic packaging.
And a ring containing at least twenty keys.
Sarah backed away.
Officer Ramirez’s face hardened.
“What was he planning?”
Nobody answered.
Then the officer reached deeper into the bag.
He pulled out a folded piece of paper.
A printed photograph.
Sarah’s photograph.
Taken from across the parking lot.
She was carrying Leo toward my apartment.
Written across the bottom in black marker were four words.
FRIDAY. BEFORE SHE LEAVES.
Sarah stared at it.
“Oh my God.”
Ramirez immediately took the photograph.
Then another object came from the bag.
A small notebook.
Inside were dates.
Times.
Apartment numbers.
Names.
My name appeared repeatedly.
GABLE — 404.
8:14.
8:16.
8:13.
8:15.
Beside several entries was the letter S.
Sarah.
They had recorded every morning she visited me.
But farther down the page, another apartment number appeared over and over.
417.
“Who lives in 417?” Ramirez asked.
I frowned.
“Nobody.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s been vacant for months.”
The officer looked at me.
“Where is it?”
“Other end of this floor.”
Sarah suddenly grabbed Ramirez’s sleeve.
“My sister.”
Ramirez immediately radioed Collins.
Within seconds, four officers were moving toward apartment 417.
Sarah tried to follow.
I stopped her.
“Let them go first.”
“What if Emily is there?”
“Then they’ll bring her to you.”
“What if she needs me?”
“Then you need to stay alive long enough to be here when she does.”
Sarah hated hearing it.
But she stayed.
We waited.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Then two.
Every second felt unbearable.
Finally, a voice came over Ramirez’s radio.
“Apartment clear.”
Sarah’s shoulders collapsed.
Then the voice continued.
“However, we found evidence someone has been staying here.”
Ramirez answered.
“What kind?”
“Food. Blankets. Surveillance equipment.”
My stomach tightened.
“Anything else?”
A pause.
Then:
“You need to see this.”
Ramirez told us to remain in my apartment.
She disappeared down the hallway.
Sarah paced.
I watched Leo.
The poor child had finally fallen asleep again, completely unaware that half the building seemed to be hiding secrets around him.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
When Ramirez returned, she carried several photographs sealed inside evidence bags.
Her face told me they weren’t ordinary photographs.
“What did you find?” Sarah asked.
“Apartment 417 appears to have been used to monitor residents.”
“Residents?”
“Mostly you.”
Sarah stared.
Ramirez placed the first photograph on my table.
Sarah leaving 405.
Another.
Sarah entering my apartment.
Another.
Me handing Sarah the measuring cup.
Another.
Sarah sitting beside my kitchen window holding the prepaid phone.
They had been photographing us.
For months.
Then Ramirez placed down one more.
It showed Sarah at a bus station.
Sarah frowned.
“When was that?”
“There’s a timestamp.”
She looked closer.
Her face changed.
“That was four months ago.”
Before our escape plan.
Before the documents.
Before the tea tin.
“Why were you at the bus station?” I asked.
Sarah seemed confused.
“I wasn’t leaving.”
“Then why?”
“I was meeting my mother.”
Officer Ramirez looked at her.
“Your mother?”
“She came to see Leo.”
“Where is she now?”
Sarah’s expression changed again.
“I don’t know.”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“My mother and David had a terrible argument that day.”
“About what?”
“Me.”
Sarah sat down.
“She told him she didn’t like how he spoke to me. She said I looked frightened all the time.”
“And then?”
“David told her she wasn’t welcome anymore.”
“Did you speak to her afterward?”
“For a few weeks.”
Sarah swallowed.
“Then her number stopped working.”
My stomach tightened.
“You never thought that was strange?”
“Of course I did. But David said she’d blocked me because she was angry.”
Officer Ramirez leaned forward.
“What is your mother’s name?”
“Linda Mercer.”
Ramirez wrote it down.
“Where does she live?”
“Orlando.”
“When did you last personally speak to her?”
Sarah thought.
“Almost three months ago.”
That was approximately when Sarah began visiting me every morning.
Ramirez radioed the name to dispatch.
Sarah’s breathing became shallow.
“No.”
I took her hand.
“Don’t jump ahead.”
But we both were.
Ten minutes later, dispatch responded.
Officer Ramirez listened.
Then asked them to repeat it.
Sarah watched her face.
“What?”
Ramirez lowered the radio.
“Sarah, your mother’s phone wasn’t disconnected.”
“What?”
“It’s still active.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The account has been paid every month.”
Sarah stared at her.
“Then why can’t I reach her?”
Ramirez hesitated.
“The phone has been connecting to towers here.”
Sarah’s face emptied.
“Here?”
“In this city.”
“That doesn’t make sense. She lives in Florida.”
“The most recent connection was yesterday.”
Sarah stood so quickly her chair toppled backward.
“My mother is here?”
“We don’t know that. We only know her phone is.”
Then my apartment phone rang.
Not my cell.
My landline.
Nobody had called that number all morning.
I stared at it.
Sarah stared too.
It rang again.
Officer Ramirez gestured for me to answer.
I picked up.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Then a woman breathed into the receiver.
“Eleanor?”
It was the same voice.
Rebecca.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“The police are here.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Silence.
Then:
“Because I can see them.”
I looked toward the windows.
Ramirez immediately closed the blinds.
“Rebecca, listen to me. We found the photographs.”
“I know.”
“We found Harris.”
“I know.”
“Then help us.”
“I’m trying.”
“Where is Emily?”
Sarah rushed toward the phone.
“Rebecca, where is my sister?”
The woman began crying again.
“I don’t know.”
Sarah’s face crumpled.
“What about my mother?”
Silence.
“Rebecca?”
A shaky breath came through the receiver.
Then she said:
“Sarah… David lied to you about your mother.”
Sarah gripped the phone.
“What did he do?”
“Your mother never blocked you.”
“I know that.”
“She tried to get you away from him.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know where she is now.”
“Then what do you know?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“I know she came here three months ago.”
“To the building?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To get you and Leo.”
Sarah looked confused.
“That never happened.”
“She never reached your apartment.”
The room went silent.
Sarah whispered, “Why?”
“Because Harris met her downstairs.”
Sarah began shaking.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know something!”
“I saw them arguing near the maintenance entrance.”
“You were here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rebecca went quiet.
“Because I’ve been watching David.”
That answer stunned everyone.
“For how long?” Ramirez asked.
“Years.”
“Why haven’t you gone to police?”
A bitter laugh came through the phone.
“Because I tried once.”
“And?”
“David found out before I reached the station.”
“How?”
Rebecca whispered:
“Someone inside the department told him.”
Officer Ramirez’s expression changed.
Collins, standing near the doorway, slowly turned.
“A police officer helped David?”
“I don’t know who.”
“Rebecca, we need you to come in.”
“No.”
“We can protect you.”
“That’s what they told me seven years ago.”
Then Rebecca said something that changed the entire room.
“Ask David why Detective Mark Bennett closed my disappearance case.”
Collins looked at Ramirez.
She went pale.
“Bennett?”
“You know him?”
Ramirez didn’t answer.
Rebecca did.
“He was the detective assigned to find me.”
Officer Collins whispered, “He’s a captain now.”
My stomach dropped.
Sarah stared at them.
“A captain?”
Ramirez immediately pulled out her phone.
But Rebecca shouted:
“Don’t call anyone!”
Ramirez froze.
“If Bennett knows you found the box, he’ll destroy everything.”
“How do you know Bennett was involved?”
“Because David told me.”
“When?”
“The night he tried to kill me.”
Silence.
Even Sarah stopped crying.
Rebecca’s voice became quieter.
“Seven years ago, I found evidence that David and Harris were using empty apartments for something. I confronted David. That was my mistake.”
“What were they using them for?”
“I never found out completely.”
“Then what happened?”
“David took me to the mountains.”
Sarah covered her mouth.
“He thought I was dead.”
Rebecca continued.
“I survived. Barely. A couple found me two days later. I was terrified, so I gave them a false name.”
“Why not go home?”
“Because when I finally contacted Detective Bennett, he told me something only David knew.”
Officer Ramirez whispered, “Meaning they were communicating.”
“Yes.”
“So you disappeared voluntarily.”
“I disappeared because staying dead was the only way I knew how to remain alive.”
Sarah leaned toward the phone.
“Why come back now?”
Another pause.
“Because David started doing to you exactly what he did to me.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“And you watched?”
“I tried warning you.”
“When?”
“The notes.”
Sarah’s eyes opened.
“What notes?”
“The ones I slipped beneath your door.”
Sarah looked confused.
“I never received any notes.”
Rebecca went silent.
Then she whispered, “Harris.”
He had found them.
Of course he had.
Sarah began crying.
“Please tell me where Emily is.”
“I can’t.”
“Please.”
“I don’t know.”
“My mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then give us something!”
Rebecca’s breathing quickened.
“There is something.”
“What?”
“A storage room beneath the parking deck.”
Officer Ramirez immediately started writing.
“Where?”
“Behind the maintenance workshop. There’s a gray door without a number.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know. Harris keeps it locked.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because three months ago, I watched Harris take Sarah’s mother through that door.”
Sarah made a choking sound.
“And yesterday…”
Rebecca stopped.
Sarah gripped the receiver.
“Yesterday what?”
“I saw him open it again.”
“For who?”
Rebecca started crying.
“Emily.”
Sarah screamed her sister’s name.
Officer Ramirez immediately radioed Collins and the other officers.
“Parking deck. Maintenance workshop. Gray unmarked door. Move now.”
Boots thundered through the corridor.
Sarah tried following.
I grabbed her.
“No.”
“My family is down there!”
“And we don’t know what else is down there.”
We waited.
Again.
Those terrible minutes.
Then Ramirez’s radio crackled.
“We located the door.”
“Status?”
“Locked.”
“Force entry.”
A crash echoed faintly through the building.
Sarah clutched my hand.
Another crash.
Then radio static.
“Door open.”
Silence.
“Collins?”
Nothing.
“Collins, report.”
Sarah stopped breathing.
Finally:
“We found someone.”
Sarah began sobbing.
“Who?”
Ramirez grabbed the radio.
“Identify.”
Static.
Then Collins answered.
“Female. Alive.”
Sarah collapsed against me.
“Emily.”
But Collins continued.
“It’s not Emily.”
Sarah froze.
“Then who?”
Another pause.
“Woman appears approximately sixty years old.”
Sarah’s face went completely white.
“My mother.”
Ramirez asked, “Is she conscious?”
“Barely.”
Sarah sobbed.
Then Collins said:
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“We found multiple identification cards.”
“How many?”
A long silence.
“At least nine.”
My blood turned cold.
“Nine women?” Ramirez asked.
“Looks that way.”
Then another officer shouted something in the background.
Collins stopped speaking.
“What happened?” Ramirez demanded.
Static.
“Collins?”
His voice returned.
Urgent now.
“We found another door.”
“What door?”
“Hidden behind shelving.”
“Open it.”
Several seconds passed.
Then I heard Collins swear.
“What?”
Ramirez demanded.
“What is it?”
Collins answered:
“Surveillance room.”
Sarah stared toward the floor as if she could see through four stories of concrete.
“Is Emily there?”
“We’re checking.”
Then Collins said:
“Wait.”
Silence.
“Someone’s moving.”
Ramirez grabbed her radio.
“Officer?”
More static.
Then:
“Female.”
Sarah squeezed my arm.
“Emily?”
Collins didn’t answer immediately.
When he finally did, his voice sounded shaken.
“No.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Then another voice came through the radio.
A woman.
Weak.
Terrified.
But unmistakable.
“Eleanor?”
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it minutes earlier on my telephone.
Rebecca.
She wasn’t watching the building from somewhere outside.
She had been underneath us the entire time.
And before the radio cut out, Rebecca screamed four words that made Officer Ramirez reach for her weapon.
“BENNETT IS IN THE BUILDING!”

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story👉 PART 6 — THE CAPTAIN IN THE BUILDING