After he’s gone, I just sit there for a moment, staring at the wall. I can’t believe that an hour ago, my biggest problem was Philip hitting on Harper. And then after that, my biggest problem was a patient threatening to sue me. This is so much worse.
Two of my patients were murdered in the span of a week. There’s no way that could be a coincidence, could it?
Even if that were a coincidence, the hands being severed… That’s an obvious connection to me. It’s undeniable. And there’s one definite conclusion I can draw.
Whoever is doing this knows who I am.
Chapter 19
26 Years Earlier
The door to the basement creaks loudly as I push it open.
The basement is completely dark. I expected my father to be working down here, because of all the noise. But he’s obviously not working in the dark. That would be weird.
I reach out and flick on the lights.
I’ve never been in the basement of our house. It’s a damp, square room with concrete walls that are unpainted. Even though I turned on the light, it’s still very dark down here—the lighting is from a single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. There is, unsurprisingly, a workbench set up in the corner of the room. I don’t know why I expected to see anything different. It’s a long wooden bench and does have something that sort of looks like a motorized saw on it, so I guess that’s what I heard earlier. There’s a hammer also. But there are also some weird things I wouldn’t expect to be on a tool bench.
Like, for example, there’s a knife. A long, razor-sharpknife that glints under the dim light of the single light bulb. Also, there’s a big bottle of bleach on the table. Why would he need bleach for making furniture?
And there’s a big spray bottle of lavender-scented air freshener.
But the weirdest thing is all the stains on the table. All the stains are brownish. It must be paint. I guess maybe he’s painting everything brown?
The entire basement stinks of lavender. It’s clinging to every surface of the room. But thatothersmell is even stronger—the one that smells like something is rotting.
It smellsawful. Like somethingdieddown here.
The other weird thing is there isn’t any furniture that my father is working on. Even though he’s been down here every evening this week, I don’t see one chair or desk and bookcase in progress. So what exactly has he been building down here? I mean, he’s been doingsomething.
As I’m staring down at my father’s bench, I hear a noise from behind me. I jump and whirl around. But there’s nothing there.
And then I hear it again. A muffled sound. Ahumansound.
That’s when I see it. Way in the darkest corner of the basement, there’s some sort of box or crate, covered in a sheet. Whatever the noise is, it’s coming from under the sheet.
I step quietly across the room. My footsteps sound so loud, but it shouldn’t matter. I’m here alone. Right?
When I’m a foot away from the crate, I stop. I just stand there for a moment, staring at it. Then I hear thatmuffled sound again. There’s something alive in there. An animal? But no, it doesn’t sound like animal noises.
I take a deep breath and reach for the sheet. I tug on it until the edge lifts off the ground. I can see now that it wasn’t a crate after all. It’s acage. A rectangular cage with metal bars surrounding it. And then I catch a flash of a blue eye peeking under the sheet.
“Hello, Nora.”
I release the sheet and jump away from the cage, my heart pounding. I stare up the staircase and my father’s silhouette fills the doorway. His eyes look like they’re glowing.
“I… I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I… the door was…”
Dad’s footsteps land heavily on the stairs as he descends them. I thought my own footsteps were loud, but his sound like gunshots. “You were curious.”
“Yes,” I say in a tiny voice.
He reaches the bottom step, his dark eyes looking into mine. “So what do you think?”
Even after drinking all that water in the kitchen, my mouth is dry. “I…”
My father runs his hand along the wood of his tool bench. “Out of everyone in the world,” he says, “I thought thatyouwould understand. You’re like me, Nora. I see it in you.”
