Chapter 2 - The Woman Upstairs
Dad moved toward the staircase.
Wade stood too quickly and nearly fell.
“You don’t have permission to search my house.”
Dad turned.
“This is Diane’s house.”
“We were married an hour ago.”
“And that makes the basement yours?”
Wade’s face hardened.
My mother grabbed Dad’s arm.
“Daniel, stop making this worse.”
He looked at her hand until she released him.
“Ava photographed a body beneath your basement.”
“It could be anything.”
“It had fingers.”
The woman upstairs cried again.
This time, she spoke.
“Please don’t let him come up here.”
The wedding guests stepped away from the staircase.
Dad motioned for me to stay behind him.
We climbed together.
At the end of the hallway, a bedroom door stood partially open.
Inside, a thin woman sat on the floor wearing a torn blue dress.
A medical bandage covered one side of her head.
Her wrists were bruised.
She looked at Wade and recoiled.
Dad immediately moved between them.
“Who are you?”
“Rachel Moore.”
My mother made a small choking sound behind us.
Rachel looked at her.
“You told everyone I died.”
Diane’s face went pale.
Wade pushed through the crowd.
“She’s mentally ill.”
Rachel crawled backward.
“You buried someone in my place.”
That sentence froze the entire hallway.
Dad took out his phone and called the police.
Wade lunged for it.
I stepped between them without thinking.
He grabbed my shoulder.
Dad caught his wrist and twisted it away.
“Touch my daughter again.”
His voice was quiet.
More frightening than shouting.
“And you’ll need another bandage.”
Police sirens sounded outside.
Rachel looked at me.
“You found the pictures?”
I nodded.
She began crying.
“I left them where a child would look.”
“Why me?”
“Because your mother stopped looking years ago.”
Diane’s face collapsed.
Rachel reached beneath the bed and pulled out a stained envelope.
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Across the front, in black ink, were four words:
FOR DANIEL—NOT FOR DIANE.
