A Sound Behind the Closet

I waited until midnight.

Then I turned off the lights and sat on the floor beside the closet door.

For several minutes, I heard nothing but the hum of the air conditioner.

Then came a faint sound.

A slow breath.

A soft movement against wood.

I stood so quickly that my shoulder struck the wall.

The sound stopped.

I did not open the closet.

Instead, I went downstairs, locked myself in the study and called my closest friend, Kelsey Ward.

I told her everything.

She was silent for a moment.

“Corinne, you need proof before you confront anyone.”

“You believe Lacey?”

“I believe something is happening inside your house.”

The next morning, I bought two small indoor security cameras. I placed one on a bookshelf facing the bedroom closet and another in the kitchen.

I did not tell Nolan.

I did not tell Delia.

I sent Lacey to school, drove three blocks away and parked near a coffee shop.

At 10:16 a.m., my phone sent a movement notification.

I opened the camera application.

The right side of the closet shifted.

A narrow section of wall moved inward.

A man stepped out.

His hair was longer, his face looked tired and his clothes were wrinkled.

But there was no doubt who he was.

Nolan.

My husband had not been in Seattle.

He had been hiding inside our home.