Thomas reached the hallway before Daniel caught him.
Daniel grabbed the back of his shirt and drove his shoulder into Thomas’s side, turning him away from the basement. Both men crashed against a narrow console table beneath the family photographs.
The table collapsed.
A framed picture hit the hardwood and shattered.
Thomas fought with astonishing desperation.
“Get off me!”
Officer Jenkins rushed forward.
Together he and Daniel forced Thomas facedown.
Thomas kicked against the floor, trying to drag himself toward the basement.
“You can’t go down there!”
Daniel secured one wrist.
“Stop resisting.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
The second cuff clicked shut.
Thomas stopped fighting.
For several seconds he lay motionless, cheek pressed against the floor.
Then he turned his head.
His eyes remained fixed on the basement.
Mary noticed something chilling.
He did not look like a man worried that police might damage property.
He looked like a man terrified they were seconds from discovering something he could never explain.
Emily began sobbing.
Mary moved her away from the broken glass.
“It’s okay. Don’t look.”
Emily grabbed her sleeve.
“Please don’t wake him.”
Mary crouched.
“Who?”
“The man downstairs.”
Daniel looked toward them.
“What man?”
Emily pointed.
“There.”
Sergeant Brooks stepped toward the basement door.
“Is someone living downstairs?”
Emily nodded uncertainly.
“Sometimes.”
Thomas shouted from the floor.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Brooks turned.
“Stop talking.”
“She makes things up.”
Emily buried her face against Mary.
Daniel and Jenkins lifted Thomas and seated him against the living-room wall under guard.
Brooks radioed detectives and Child Protective Services while another officer began documenting the visible injuries on Emily.
Mary remained with the girl.
“Can you tell me about the man?”
Emily whispered, “Daddy says I’m never supposed to see him.”
“Have you?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“I came out because I needed water.”
“What did he look like?”
Emily shook her head.
“It was dark.”
“Did he see you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Daddy got mad.”
Her hand moved instinctively toward the bruises.
Mary understood.
Across the room Daniel examined the broken family photographs.
One showed Thomas and Emily at a school fair.
Another showed them beside a Christmas tree.
A third showed Thomas alone beside a lake.
Then Daniel found an older wedding photograph.
Thomas stood beside a dark-haired woman.
Rebecca.
Someone had scratched repeatedly across her face.
Daniel carried it to Brooks.
“This is the wife.”
Brooks studied the damaged image.
“Bag it.”
Thomas heard.
“It’s a family photograph.”
“Then you can explain the damage later.”
He said nothing.
Mary returned to the stuffed rabbit.
“Emily, was this Sophie’s favorite?”
The child nodded.
“She called him Mr. Buttons.”
“How long ago did Sophie live here?”
“I was little.”
“Was your mother here then?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mother know Sophie?”
Emily nodded.
“They talked when Daddy wasn’t home.”
Mary felt a new line of suspicion forming.
“What did they talk about?”
“I don’t know. Mommy made me go play.”
“Did Sophie have parents?”
“She cried for her mommy.”
Mary swallowed.
“Did Sophie sleep upstairs?”
“No.”
Emily pointed toward the basement.
“She slept there.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
Brooks saw him.
“Who is Sophie?”
“No one.”
“Emily says otherwise.”
“She invented her.”
Mary held up the rabbit.
“Then who owned this?”
Thomas looked at it.
For the first time, his composure cracked completely.
Only for an instant.
But everyone saw.
“I don’t know.”
Emily whispered, “He does.”
Thomas stared at her.
Mary immediately stepped between them.
Daniel moved Thomas farther away.
Brooks requested a detective and began discussing a warrant with the responding supervisor.
Then Jenkins called from the hallway.
“Sergeant.”
Everyone looked toward him.
He was crouched near the basement threshold.
Something dark had appeared beneath the door.
A narrow wet line.
Brooks approached.
“Water?”
Jenkins shook his head.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Mary pulled on gloves and touched the liquid carefully.
When she lifted her finger, the substance looked dark red beneath the hallway light.
Thomas suddenly stood.
The officer guarding him pushed him back down.
“Don’t open it.”
Brooks looked at him.
“What is that?”
Thomas said nothing.
“Is someone injured downstairs?”
Silence.
Brooks’s decision was immediate.
“We’re entering.”
Thomas began shouting.
“You need a warrant!”
“If there’s a person bleeding behind that door, we don’t wait.”
Daniel tested the lock.
Solid.
Jenkins retrieved a breaching tool.
Emily began trembling as soon as she saw it.
Mary took her into the living room.
“You don’t need to watch.”
The first strike echoed through the house.
Emily covered her ears.
The second damaged the frame.
Thomas cursed.
The third splintered wood around the deadbolt.
“Stop!”
Daniel struck again.
The lock shifted.
Thomas’s voice became almost pleading.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Another strike.
The door burst inward.
Nobody moved for a moment.
Cold air rose from the stairwell carrying dampness, dust, and a faint metallic odor.
Daniel switched on his flashlight.
Brooks followed.
Mary remained near the top with Emily until Officer Kelly arrived to stay with the child.
“I’m going down for a minute,” Mary said.
Emily seized her hand.
“No.”
“I’ll come back.”
“You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
Emily stared into the darkness.
“There are things written on the walls.”
Mary descended.
The staircase was narrow and unfinished.
Daniel’s flashlight moved across concrete.
Halfway down he stopped.
Scratches covered the wall.
Some were long and random.
Others formed crude shapes.
Several were positioned only two or three feet above the floor.
Marks made by children.
Brooks illuminated another section.
Blue crayon.
Words.
The handwriting was uneven.
A plea for help.
Another message asked for a mother.
Mary stared.
There were handprints too.
Small palms pressed against the concrete in faded pigment.
Some appeared years old.
Others looked newer.
Daniel descended farther.
Shelves filled with paint cans and household junk occupied one side of the basement.
At first glance it might have passed for ordinary storage.
Then his flashlight found a pink bicycle.
Dust coated the seat.
Beside it lay three children’s shoes.
Not three pairs.
Three individual shoes.
Different sizes.
Mary crouched beside them.
“These aren’t Emily’s size.”
Daniel nodded.
Brooks photographed everything before they moved farther.
At the rear of the basement stood another door.
This one was worse.
Steel reinforcement covered the frame.
Deep scratches surrounded the interior edge.
Daniel touched the handle.
Locked.
Mary looked back toward the staircase.
“Emily said Sophie stayed downstairs.”
Brooks’s face hardened.
Daniel swept his light along the floor.
A small plastic hair clip lay near the door.
Pink flowers.
Beside it was a broken crayon.
Blue.
Then they heard something.
A faint sound.
Daniel lifted one hand.
Everyone stopped.
Nothing.
Mary wondered whether the old furnace had shifted.
Then it came again.
Tap.
She looked at Daniel.
A second tap followed.
Then a third.
The sound came from behind the reinforced door.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Police department. Is someone in there?”
Silence.
Upstairs Thomas began shouting again.
“No!”
The officers in the basement looked toward the ceiling.
“Don’t open it!”
His voice carried down the staircase.
Daniel turned back to the door.
“Can you hear me?”
For several seconds there was no answer.
Then a voice emerged from the other side.
Small.
Weak.
Human.
“Hello?”
Mary’s hand flew to her mouth.
Daniel leaned toward the steel.
“My name is Daniel. I’m a police officer. What’s your name?”
A pause.
“Lily.”
“How old are you?”
The answer came slowly.
“Seven.”
Mary closed her eyes for half a second.
Another child.
Alive.
Daniel asked, “Lily, can you open the door?”
“I don’t have the key.”
“Are you hurt?”
“My legs hurt.”
“Is anybody else in there?”
The girl hesitated.
“I don’t think so.”
Daniel looked at Brooks.
“What do you mean, you don’t think so?”
“It gets dark.”
Upstairs Thomas began struggling violently against the officers.
“Don’t open that door!”
His panic echoed throughout the house.
“You’ll ruin everything!”
Brooks radioed for medical personnel.
Jenkins hurried upstairs for the heavier ram.
Mary stayed beside the door.
“Lily, we’re going to make some loud noises. We’re opening the door.”
The child’s voice changed.
“Will Daddy be mad?”
Mary looked at Daniel.
“Thomas?”
“Yes.”
Mary crouched beside the steel door although Lily could not see her.
“He can’t stop us.”
Silence.
Then Lily asked the question that erased any remaining doubt.
“Can Emily come downstairs now?”
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: Police Break Through the Reinforced Room and Find a Seven-Year-Old Girl Whose Memory Turns One Rescue Into a Much Larger Case
A Frightened Child Calls 911 With Three Strange Words That Make an Experienced Dispatcher Refuse to Hang Up
Part 3 of 20
