Chapter 3
The hospital lights hurt my eyes.
Everything was too bright.
Too clean.
Too loud.
Doctors took Mom behind a curtain, and I sat on a plastic chair with my father beside me.
He tried to put his arm around me.
I moved away.
His hand dropped.
I saw the hurt on his face.
I was glad.
Then I hated myself for being glad.
Then I hated him again.
That was how my heart felt.
Like it had too many rooms and every door was slamming.
“Calla,” he said softly.
I stared at the floor.
“You said she left.”
His throat moved.
“I believed she did.”
“You packed her clothes.”
“I thought—”
“You let Drea sleep in her room.”
He flinched.
“Our room,” he whispered.
I looked at him then.
“No. Mom’s room.”
His eyes filled.
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
That surprised me.
Dad used to correct everything.
My posture.
My homework.
The way I talked too fast when I was upset.
After Mom vanished, he corrected my grief too.
Calla, your mother made her choice.
Calla, stop asking about the lake house.
Calla, Drea is trying.
Calla, you need to move on.
I had not moved on.
I had held on so hard my hands hurt.
Now Mom was behind a curtain with an IV in her arm, and Dad looked like a man who had finally realized he had been helping the wrong person.
Grace arrived with coffee nobody drank.
She sat on my other side.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“You believed Drea too.”
Grace cried.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She wiped her face.
“Because it was easier than believing something terrible happened.”
That answer sounded honest.
I did not forgive her.
But I did not look away.
Officer Reed came with a detective named Marlowe.
He had kind eyes and a notebook full of questions.
He asked if I could talk.
Dad said, “She’s been through enough.”
I said, “I can talk.”
Dad closed his mouth.
Good.
Detective Marlowe crouched so he was not towering over me.
“Calla, when did you first hear knocking?”
“At the old house,” I said.
Dad turned sharply.
“What?”
I kept my eyes on the detective.
“Before we moved. At night. From the garage wall. I told Drea. She said it was pipes.”
Detective Marlowe wrote it down.
“Did you tell your father?”
“Yes.”
Dad covered his face with one hand.
I kept going.
“He checked once. Drea said mice got into the walls. Then she made me sleep with a white noise machine.”
Grace whispered, “Oh, Calla.”
I looked down.
“After we moved here, I heard it again from the pool house. Two knocks. Mom always knocked twice on my door before coming in.”
Dad made a sound.
I did not look at him.
The detective asked, “Why did you pull the speaker cord tonight?”
“Because the music was too loud. Nobody could hear her.”
“How did you know someone would knock back?”
“I didn’t.”
My voice shook.
“I hoped.”
He nodded.
“That was very brave.”
I shook my head.
“I was scared.”
“Most brave people are.”
The curtain opened.
A doctor came out.
Dad stood so fast his chair scraped.
“How is she?”
The doctor’s face was careful.
“She is dehydrated, malnourished, and frightened. She has older injuries consistent with restraint and confinement. She is stable, but recovery will take time.”
Dad sat down hard.
Grace cried into her hands.
I felt cold all over.
The doctor looked at me.
“She’s asking for you.”
I ran.
Mom was lying in a hospital bed, smaller than I remembered but still Mom.
Her hair had been brushed back.
A warm blanket covered her.
When she saw me, her whole face changed.
“Moonbug.”
I climbed carefully beside her.
The nurse tried to stop me, then saw Mom’s expression and let me.
Mom wrapped one arm around me.
I listened to her heartbeat.
Slow.
Real.
Dad stood in the doorway.
Mom saw him.
Her body went stiff.
He stopped immediately.
“Lena,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”
She stared at him.
“For what?”
“For believing she left? For marrying Drea? For letting Calla suffer? For not finding me?”
He had no answer.
Mom’s eyes filled.
“Pick one.”
Dad looked shattered.
I had never heard anyone speak to him like that.
Not even Mom before.
He whispered, “All of it.”
Mom turned her face away.
“I can’t do this tonight.”
Dad nodded.
“I’ll wait.”
“No,” she said.
Her voice was weak, but sharp.
“You will answer every police question. You will give them access to every house, every account, every camera, every message. You will stop protecting your pride long enough to protect your daughter.”
Dad straightened.
“Yes.”
Mom looked at him again.
“And Ethan?”
Dad swallowed.
“Yes?”
“If you had any part in what happened to me, I will never let you near Calla again.”
The room went silent.
Dad’s face went white.
“I didn’t.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“I hope that’s true.”
I held her tighter.
May you like
Because I hoped so too.
But hope felt thinner than it used to.
