Chapter 1: The Bird Who Knew Her Name
The parrot knew my wife's name before I ever said it out loud.
I heard the knock and opened the door to find two officers standing on my porch, one hand resting near her radio.
"Police.
We received an emergency call from this address."
I kept my voice calm.
"Nobody called."
That's when Milo started screaming from his cage in the living room.
Not squawking.
Screaming, in a voice that sounded exactly like my wife.
"Help me!
He's going to kjll me!"
I forced a laugh.
"That bird repeats everything.
My wife watches those true crime shows constantly."
The female officer's eyes didn't leave the cage.
"Where is your wife?"
"Visiting her sister."
Her partner's radio crackled behind me.
"Confirmed.
The 911 caller was female.
She whispered the address before the line disconnected."
I felt my pulse in my throat.
Then Milo did something he had never done before.
He repeated the call word for word, in her exact tone, the panic sitting in every syllable.
"911, please hurry!
Daniel locked the basement!"
The male officer's gaze drifted past me toward the hallway, toward the basement door with three deadbolts I had installed myself over the past two months.
"You said your wife wasn't home."
"The bird makes things up.
He hears the television, he mixes—"
I didn't get to finish the sentence.
Milo's voice dropped into something quieter, something almost human in its urgency.
"Megan.
Don't let him get the key."
Nobody in this house had ever said her name in front of that bird.
Not once.
I made sure of that.
The female officer looked at me for a long moment.
Then, beneath our feet, something began pounding against the floor.
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Was Megan still alive down there?
Comment **"NEXT"** if you want Part 2 — it's in the comments.
