PART 2
"Pull It Up."
"Move."
Daniel's voice was low.
Calm.
The kind of calm that scared people more than shouting ever could.
Patricia didn't move.
She stood between him and the floorboard, her hands shaking so badly that coffee dripped from the cup onto her shoes.
"Daniel... please."
"No."
"You don't understand."
"Then help me understand."
For a long second, nobody spoke.
Mariana wrapped one arm around Inés, pulling the little girl against her chest.
Inés never took her eyes off the floor.
"Leo's waiting," she whispered.
"He's tired."
Daniel tightened his grip on the pry bar.
"Last chance, Patricia."
Her shoulders collapsed.
Then, suddenly, she lunged for the tool.
Daniel caught her wrist before she could grab it.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
Tears spilled down Patricia's face.
"You can't open it."
His eyes narrowed.
"Can't..."
"...or shouldn't?"
She looked away.
That was answer enough.
Daniel pulled his arm free and drove the flat end of the pry bar beneath the loose plank.
The wood groaned.
A sharp crack echoed through the living room.
Mariana jumped.
Patricia let out a panicked cry.
"No!"
Daniel ignored her.
He pushed harder.
The board lifted just enough to reveal darkness underneath.
A cold draft rushed through the opening.
It smelled like damp concrete...
...and something old.
Very old.
Daniel swallowed.
He widened the gap.
Flashlight.
"I need a flashlight."
Mariana ran into the kitchen.
Her hands were trembling so hard she dropped the drawer handle twice before finding one beneath the sink.
When she returned, Daniel aimed the beam into the narrow space.
Dust floated through the light.
Wooden support beams.
Concrete.
Electrical wiring.
Nothing else.
His heart sank.
For one terrible moment, he wondered if grief had finally broken them all.
Then Inés pointed.
"There."
The flashlight moved a few inches to the left.
Daniel froze.
There was a small opening beyond one of the beams.
Not part of the house.
A hidden cavity.
Someone had built a box beneath the floor.
The beam caught something inside.
A faded red wheel.
Daniel stopped breathing.
"No..."
He reached in.
His fingers brushed cold plastic.
Slowly...
...he pulled it toward him.
A tiny red toy car.
Its paint was chipped.
One wheel was missing.
The black marker initials "L.R." were still scratched underneath.
Mariana collapsed to her knees.
"That's his," she sobbed.
"That's Leo's."
Daniel held the toy in both hands.
He remembered buying it at a gas station because Leo had begged for it during a road trip.
There was no mistake.
It belonged to his son.
He looked up at Patricia.
Her face had turned ghost white.
"When?" he asked.
She couldn't answer.
"When did this get under your floor?"
"I..."
"When?"
"I don't know!"
"Liar!"
The word exploded out of him.
Patricia burst into tears.
"I swear I didn't put it there!"
Before Daniel could respond, someone pounded on the front door.
Three loud bangs.
Everyone froze.
Another knock.
Then a man's voice.
"Police!"
Daniel frowned.
"We received an anonymous report about a disturbance inside the residence."
Patricia's head snapped toward the door.
For the first time since they'd arrived...
...she looked relieved.
Too relieved.
Daniel slowly stood.
His eyes never left his sister.
"Did you call them?"
She shook her head.
"No."
He believed she hadn't.
Which meant someone else knew exactly what was happening inside the house.
As Daniel walked toward the front door, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Unknown Number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke only one sentence.
May you like
"You've opened the wrong floor."
The line went dead.
