Chapter 3 - THE ROOM THEY KEPT LOCKED
The doctor wanted me to remain in the hospital overnight.
Officer Holloway wanted a warrant for the house before Daniel’s attorney could interfere.
By midnight, detectives were searching the rental property.
I watched from my bed through photographs they sent to the officer.
The backyard looked smaller than it had in my memory.
The patchy grass.
The leaning fence.
The porch pillar where Daniel tied my wrists.
The rope was still wrapped around the base.
A detective photographed every knot.
Another collected the broken boards where my knees had struck the porch.
Inside, they found the old kitchen drawer where I had discovered the phone.
They found a second recorder hidden beneath the sink.
I had never seen it.
It belonged to Daniel.
He had been recording me too.
The files included phone calls with doctors.
Conversations with my daughters.
Private moments when I cried alone.
He had not only hurt me.
He had studied the way I reacted.
At 1:17 a.m., Officer Holloway received another call.
Her expression changed.
“What did they find?” I asked.
“A locked room.”
I knew which one.
The small bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Daniel called it storage.
Lorraine kept the key around her neck.
I had been forbidden to enter.
“What is inside?”
“They are opening it now.”
The officer placed the call on speaker.
Metal scraped.
A door opened.
Then a detective swore.
“What is it?” Holloway asked.
“Children’s clothes.”
My throat tightened.
“What kind of clothes?”
“Girls’ clothes.”
“Different sizes.”
“Some for infants.”
“Some for children around five or six.”
I thought about my daughters.
Sophie was six.
Mia was four.
They lived with Daniel’s sister, Rebecca, because he had convinced a family judge that my pregnancy made me too unstable to care for them temporarily.
He promised they would come home after the baby was born.
I had believed him because I had no money and nowhere to go.
The detective continued.
“There are photographs on the wall.”
Officer Holloway lowered her voice.
“Photographs of whom?”
“Several women.”
“All pregnant.”
“One appears to be Elena.”
My skin turned cold.
“There is also a ledger.”
“Names.”
“Dates.”
“Pregnancy outcomes.”
Officer Holloway looked at me.
“How long have you been married to Daniel?”
“Eight years.”
“Was he married before?”
“No.”
At least that was what he told me.
The detective spoke again.
“We found a marriage certificate.”
“It is fourteen years old.”
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“The groom is Daniel Mercer.”
“But the bride is not Elena.”
