Chapter 4 - The house
Police obtained an emergency search warrant for Richard and Emily’s home within hours.
I did not go with them.
Noah did not either.
We waited at a child advocacy center.
That was one of the longest afternoons of my life.
The house was a two-story colonial built in the 1980s.
Brick.
White shutters.
Finished basement.
I had been there hundreds of times.
Christmas.
Thanksgiving.
Noah’s birthdays.
Emily’s book-club nights.
The basement contained:
Laundry room.
Storage.
A small home office Richard used.
A finished television area.
And an unfinished utility corridor behind a door near the furnace.
I knew the corridor existed.
I did not know about the second door.
The brass key opened it.
Ortiz called me at 6:42 p.m.
“We found the door.”
My hand shook.
“Emily?”
Pause.
That pause nearly killed me.
“Not there.”
I closed my eyes.
“But someone has been held there.”
I gripped the table.
“Who?”
“We’re still working that out.”
That was the first hint there was another victim.
Not Emily.
Not yet identified.
Inside the hidden room police found:
A narrow cot.
Plastic water bottles.
Food wrappers.
A bucket.
Blankets.
Two lengths of chain attached to a wall ring.
No blood.
No body.
May you like
No Emily.
But the room had been used recently.
