Chapter 6 - THE BASEMENT WINDOW|
My attorney advised me not to investigate the house myself.
She was very clear about that.
“If there's evidence of another crime, the police need to find it,” she said. “You do not want to compromise anything by entering that property.”
I promised to follow her advice.
Then I spent the next six hours staring at the photograph.
The basement window looked ordinary. White trim. A narrow strip of stone. Dead leaves caught against the foundation.
But Ava's list had mentioned the basement.
And the anonymous sender knew about it.
I forwarded the photograph to the detective assigned to the case.
His name was Daniel Ruiz. He called me that evening.
“We're looking into the message,” he said. “At this stage, we don't know who sent it or whether the claim has any connection to the assault.”
“Could someone have been hurt there?”
“We're not ruling anything out.”
“Can you search the house?”
“That depends on what the evidence supports. We'll follow the proper process.”
I understood the need for caution.
Understanding did not make waiting easier.
Meanwhile, Ethan had begun leaving messages.
The first was angry.
The second was apologetic.
The third sounded like the man I remembered from the early years of our marriage.
“Claire, I love Ava. You know I do. Whatever happened, I want to make it right.”
I listened to the message twice.
Then I called him back.
“Did you know about the basement?”
“No.”
“Did Vanessa ever take Ava downstairs?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Why did Ava write that rule?”
“I don't know.”
“Then go look.”
“Claire—”
“Go into your own house and find out what your daughter was afraid of.”
He was quiet for so long I thought the call had dropped.
Finally, he said, “I will.”
Two hours later, he called again.
His voice was different.
“There's a room down there.”
“What kind of room?”
“A storage room. Vanessa keeps boxes in it.”
“What's in the boxes?”
“I haven't opened them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they're hers.”
I closed my eyes.
“Ethan, it's your house.”
“It's complicated.”
“No. A child being afraid in your house is complicated. Opening a box is not.”
He hung up.
I didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.
The following morning, Detective Ruiz called.
“We've identified the number that sent the photograph,” he said. “It's a prepaid phone. We're trying to establish who used it.”
“Did you search the basement?”
“We're arranging further interviews and assessing what steps are legally justified.”
I wanted to ask whether he believed me.
Instead, I asked whether Ava was safe.
“For now, she is with you. Keep documenting any contact from Mr. Caldwell or Ms. Reed, and tell us if anyone approaches your home.”
That afternoon, Ethan arrived at my apartment carrying a cardboard box.
He looked as though he hadn't slept.
“What's that?” I asked.
“Something I found in the basement.”
I didn't let him inside immediately.
“Did you bring it to the police?”
“No.”
“Then you need to take it to them.”
“Claire, please. Just look at it.”
I kept my hand on the door.
“What is it?”
He swallowed.
“Photographs. Old letters. Things Vanessa kept hidden.”
“Of whom?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“My first wife.”
I stared at him.
Ethan had told me his first marriage ended because his wife, Rebecca, had moved away after their divorce.
He'd said they had no children.
He'd said they had no contact.
He had never mentioned a basement full of her belongings.
“Ethan,” I said slowly, “what exactly did you tell me about Rebecca?”
May you like
He looked down at the box.
“Not everything.”
