Chapter 3: What the Click Meant
Tyler moved toward the basement door before I could stop him.
"Marcus?" He knocked twice, fast.
"Marcus, are you okay?"
Nothing.
"Tyler, step back." I put my hand on his arm.
"Step back right now."
"Mom, you locked him in a basement.
You can't just—"
"I said step back."
He looked at me.
Whatever he saw in my face made him stop arguing.
I pressed my ear to the door.
No footsteps.
No voice.
The silence on the other side had a quality to it that I didn't like — not the silence of someone standing still, but the silence of an empty room.
"Is there another way out of the basement?" Tyler asked quietly.
My stomach dropped.
The window.
The small ground-level window on the south wall that I'd been meaning to have properly sealed for two winters now.
I had never gotten around to it.
I turned the key and pulled the door open.
The basement light was still on.
The pot roast smell drifted down the stairs behind us.
At the far end of the room, the window frame sat at a slight angle — not broken, not forced.
Just pushed.
The latch had never been strong.
Marcus was gone.
"No." Tyler pushed past me down the stairs.
"No, no, no—"
He stood under the window looking up at it.
Then he turned around.
"Mom.
What did you actually see?
What made you think he was — what did you think he did?"
"I don't think," I said.
"I know what I saw in those photographs.
I spent three days sitting with your Aunt Karen while Lily was missing.
I sat with her while the detective spread those photos across her kitchen table and asked if she recognized anyone.
I looked at every single face."
"That was three years ago."
"I know how long ago it was."
Tyler pressed both hands against the back of his neck.
"People look like other people, Mom.
That happens.
You could have just — you could have asked me.
You could have said something to me first instead of—"
"And if I was right?" I said.
"What then?
What if I had pulled you aside and whispered my concern and he heard me, and I was right?
What would he have done?"
Tyler didn't answer.
I called 911.
I told them what I had seen, what I remembered, and that the young man had left through a basement window.
The dispatcher kept her voice even and professional, but I heard the pause before she responded.
"Ma'am, can you confirm the name of the individual?"
"Marcus," I said.
"I only know Marcus.
My son would know his last name."
I looked at Tyler.
He was staring at the open window.
"Tyler," I said, phone still at my ear.
"His last name."
Tyler turned slowly.
"Hale," he said.
"Marcus Hale."
The dispatcher's next pause was longer than the first.
May you like
"Ma'am," she said, "I'm going to need you to stay on the line.
I'm connecting you with a detective now."
