The light stretched forward. A bricked-in dead end.
“I don’t understand.” My voice was thinner now. “She was real. This is real.”
The look on the officer’s face shifted. It softened into something careful, almost cautious—like someone trying to approach a scared dog that’s been hit by a car.
“Ma’am,” he said gently. “There’s nobody here.”
“No!” I snapped back at him. “There’s a woman here somewhere. You have to believe me.”
The weight of it hit all at once, flattening everything inside me. It was like something invisible and heavy had slammed into me.
“Wait!” I said, panic surging. “Maybe we took the wrong tunnel.”
I turned and rushed back to the fork.
“Ma’am!” the officer called after me.
I didn’t stop.
The second tunnel stretched longer. Colder. A few doors appeared on either side. I opened each one as I passed. Storage rooms. Empty shelves. Dust.
“She’s here somewhere!” I said over my shoulder.
The words echoed down the tunnel as the officer joined me.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice gentle. It was the kind of tone used for de-escalation, like you might use with someone ready to break.
“Oh, no. I’m not crazy,” I said, but I knew exactly what I looked like. The tears welling in my eyes didn’t help. “I’m not crazy. There’s a woman here. She needs our help.”
But was she really here? Even I had to admit that I sounded crazy.
“Emily!” Tara’s voice cut through the corridor. Her footsteps echoed closer. She looked terrified—genuinely terrified, like a woman who’d risked her life climbing down rotting stairs just to find out her friend had unraveled in a basement.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she rushed to my side. Her hand brushed my arm. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“I—”
Tara and the officer stared at me, their eyes wide, waiting for something that made sense.
“There was a—” My voice trailed off. I placed a palm on the stone wall beside me. The rock felt cool and damp.
“Is it okay if I talk to you for a second?” the officer asked.
I was about to say yes, but then Tara gave him a quick nod, already stepping with him a few feet down the hall.
I stayed where I was, my arms crossed loosely, my eyes fixed on their silhouettes as they spoke. Tara did most of the talking. Her hands moved a little. The officer nodded. She shook her head. Occasionally, they glanced over at me. He gave her a look that saidI understand, though I wasn’t sure what exactly he thought he understood.
Then they came back.
“Is there anything else you want to show me down here, ma’am?” the officer asked, steady and polite.
I shook my head.
“Let’s go back upstairs,” Tara said softly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Her voice was careful, warm.
“Use only every second step,” I murmured as we took the stairs back up.
The stairwell creaked under us. I moved as if I were sleepwalking, my head down, listening to the wood shift beneath our feet.
