Chapter 1: The Shoes Beneath My Daughter’s Bed
“Don’t leave yet.””
Mrs. Carter grabbed my arm so suddenly that my car keys slipped between my fingers and struck the driveway.
I turned toward her. The elderly woman from next door was breathing hard, her purple blouse wrinkled, her silver hair slightly disheveled. She had crossed the driveway without even putting on her usual cardigan.
“Mrs. Carter, what happened?”” I asked.
She glanced at my front door, then at the windows overlooking my driveway.
“A man enters your house after you drive away.””
For a moment, the neighborhood seemed to go silent.
My name is Naomi Brooks. I was thirty-eight years old, a mother, a homeowner, and a woman who believed she knew every sound her house made. I knew which kitchen cabinet stuck in humid weather.
I knew the loose floorboard outside my daughter's bedroom. I even knew the exact squeak of the front door when it needed oil.
But a man entering my house after I left?
That was something I had never imagined.
“Are you sure you saw someone?”” I asked.
Mrs. Carter tightened her grip on my wrist.
“Naomi, I watched him.””
“From where?””
“My kitchen window. Three mornings in a row, I've seen him walk up your driveway after your SUV pulls away.””
My stomach tightened.
“What does he look like?””
“I can't tell you his face. He keeps his head down, and by the time I get to my front window, he's already inside.””
I looked toward my house.
The large front windows reflected the bright morning sky. My white curtains were open. Everything looked ordinary.
Too ordinary.
“Did you call the police?”” I asked.
“I wanted to be certain before I frightened you.”” Her voice cracked.
“Yesterday, I saw him leave carrying something.””
“What something?””
“A little black bag.””
My fingers went cold.
My daughter, Lily, was nine. Her school backpack was black, too, with a tiny silver star attached to the zipper. She had chosen it herself after spending nearly twenty minutes comparing bags at the store.
I had no idea why that detail suddenly came into my mind.
Maybe because a mother's thoughts rarely move in straight lines when her child might be in danger.
“Did you see him come back?”” I asked.
Mrs. Carter shook her head.
“No. But I saw him watching your house this morning before you came outside.””
I glanced at the upstairs windows.
Lily's bedroom was directly above the garage.
The curtains were open.
I could see the corner of her pink comforter through the glass.
“Naomi,” Mrs. Carter whispered, “please don't ignore me.””
“I won't.””
I picked up my keys, but I didn't unlock the SUV.
Instead, I walked back inside.
The kitchen smelled of buttered toast and the cinnamon cereal Lily insisted tasted better when eaten dry. Sunlight spilled across the counters, illuminating the little fingerprints she had left on the refrigerator the previous evening.
She was standing beside the island in her blue school polo, adjusting the straps of her black backpack.
“Mom, are we going to be late?”” she asked.
“No, sweetheart.””
I forced my voice to remain steady.
I crouched in front of her and straightened her collar. Her cheeks were warm beneath my palms. She looked so completely ordinary that for a moment I wanted to believe Mrs. Carter had misunderstood everything.
“Lily, can I ask you something?””
She nodded.
“Has anyone been coming into the house when I'm not here?””
Her fingers stopped moving on the backpack strap.
Only for a second.
Then she shook her head.
“No, Mom.””
I studied her face.
“Has anyone asked you to keep a secret from me?””
“No.””
“Has anyone come into your bedroom?””
She looked down at her shoes.
“No, Mom.””
The answer came quickly, but her hands were now gripping the backpack straps so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale.
I softened my expression.
“Hey. Look at me.””
She raised her eyes.
“You can tell me anything. Even if you think I'll be upset.””
“I know.””
“Then why are you squeezing that backpack like it owes you money?””
A tiny smile appeared on her face.
“Because the zipper keeps getting stuck.””
I smiled back, although the knot in my stomach remained.
“Come on. Let's get you to school.””
I walked her to the SUV, keeping one hand on her shoulder. Mrs. Carter watched from her driveway, her lips pressed together.
As Lily climbed into the back seat, she leaned toward me.
“Mom?””
“Yes, baby?””
“Can we lock the bedroom door tonight?””
My hand froze on the door frame.
“Why?””
She looked through the open car door toward the house.
“Just because.””
I wanted to ask more questions. I wanted to kneel beside her and refuse to let the conversation end until I understood exactly what she meant.
But the school bus was already turning onto the next street, and Lily had started worrying about missing her morning reading group.
I kissed her forehead.
“Tell you what. We'll talk about it after school.””
She nodded.
I closed the door.
As I drove away, I checked the rearview mirror twice.
The first time, I saw Mrs. Carter standing beside her mailbox.
The second time, I saw a man standing near the side of my house.
He wore dark trousers.
Heavy black shoes.
And he was looking directly at my SUV.
I slammed on the brakes.
A car behind me honked. I turned my head toward the passenger-side mirror, trying to catch another glimpse of him.
He was gone.
I told myself there were reasonable explanations. A delivery worker. A contractor. Someone from the neighborhood.
But I couldn't forget what Mrs. Carter had said.
He enters your house after you drive away.
At the next intersection, I turned toward Lily's school.
I dropped her off at the entrance, watched her disappear through the doors, and waited until a staff member greeted her.
Then I drove home.
I didn't call anyone.
I didn't tell Mrs. Carter.
I simply parked around the corner, returned to my house on foot, and entered through the front door.
The kitchen was empty.
The living room was undisturbed.
Everything looked exactly as I'd left it.
I stood still and listened.
The refrigerator hummed. A bird chirped outside. Somewhere upstairs, the house creaked.
Then I heard it.
A faint scraping sound.
From the second floor.
I slowly raised my head toward the staircase.
May you like
Someone had just moved something in my daughter's bedroom.
And I was the only person who was supposed to be home.
