PART 4
For several seconds, nobody moved.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t even breathe.
The voice beneath Cabin Seven had spoken my name.
Not a similar name.
Not a stranger’s voice.
My name.
“Rebecca…”
My knees weakened.
Mia grabbed my arm.
“Mom?”
I stared at the cabin.
“No.”
The word escaped my mouth before I could stop it.
“No, that’s impossible.”
The elderly man beside us looked at me with an expression I would never forget.
“You recognize the voice.”
I turned toward him.
“That was my husband.”
He nodded slowly.
“I know.”
My heart pounded.
“Who is down there?”
The man didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked at the camp director.
For the first time since I had arrived, the two of them seemed to be having a conversation without speaking.
The director looked away.
I stepped toward her.
“You know what’s underneath that cabin.”
She remained silent.
“You know who’s down there.”
Still nothing.
I raised my voice.
“Who is under the cabin?”
The director finally looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I wish I were.”
Mia suddenly whispered, “Mom.”
I turned.
She was staring at the ground.
“What?”
She pointed toward Cabin Seven.
“There’s another door.”
I looked.
At first, I saw nothing.
Then I noticed a narrow metal plate beneath the wooden steps.
A tiny keyhole.
The key in my hand suddenly felt heavier.
The elderly man took a step backward.
“That’s it.”
I looked at him.
“What’s it?”
“The entrance.”
I walked toward the cabin.
The director grabbed my arm.
“Don’t.”
I pulled away.
“My daughter found this because you adults refused to tell the truth.”
“Rebecca, you don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because some secrets don’t stay buried.”
I stared at her.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“No.”
She looked at Mia.
“It’s a warning.”
Mia stepped closer.
“Mom, Thomas told me something.”
“What?”
“He said there are two things in that room.”
“What two things?”
“A box…”
She paused.
“And a person.”
The director covered her mouth.
The elderly man closed his eyes.
I looked at both of them.
“Who?”
Mia shook her head.
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
I inserted the key into the lock.
It fit perfectly.
The director whispered, “Rebecca, please.”
I turned the key.
Click.
The metal plate released.
Underneath was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Cold air rushed upward.
It smelled like damp wood, dust, and something else.
Something metallic.
The elderly man grabbed a flashlight from his car.
“I’ll go first.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
“This concerns my husband.”
“And your daughter.”
I looked at Mia.
She was frightened.
But she was also determined.
“I’m not leaving her alone.”
The director stepped forward.
“I’m coming too.”
I stared at her.
“You should have come seventeen years ago.”
Her face crumpled.
“I know.”
We descended.
The staircase seemed much longer than it should have been.
Each step creaked beneath our weight.
Mia stayed behind me, holding onto my jacket.
The elderly man walked first.
The director followed.
I came last.
At the bottom, we reached a narrow hallway.
There were wooden walls on both sides.
At the end stood a heavy door.
On the door was a name.
DANIEL.
I stopped.
My husband had been here.
Not once.
Not by accident.
He had built something here.
Or hidden something here.
I reached for the handle.
It was unlocked.
Inside was a small room.
There was a table.
Two chairs.
A dusty lamp.
A metal filing cabinet.
And a wooden box.
On the wall was a photograph.
I walked closer.
It was Daniel.
He was younger.
Maybe seventeen.
Standing beside another boy.
Thomas.
I recognized him immediately.
But there was something else in the photograph.
Behind them stood a third person.
An adult.
I stared at the face.
I knew him.
My stomach dropped.
It was the director’s father.
The man who had founded this camp.
The director noticed where I was looking.
“My father,” she whispered.
I turned toward her.
“He knew.”
She nodded.
“He knew everything.”
“What happened?”
She sat down.
“My father was the camp director in 2009.”
The elderly man remained silent.
The director continued.
“Thomas was one of the campers. He was fourteen. Daniel was seventeen.”
“What happened to Thomas?”
“He discovered something.”
“What?”
She looked at the metal filing cabinet.
“My father had been stealing money from the camp.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Donations. Scholarship funds. Registration fees. He had been moving money through another account.”
“And Thomas found out?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the photograph.
“Why would a fourteen-year-old know about that?”
“Because Thomas’s father worked for the camp.”
The director wiped her eyes.
“He discovered the missing money and threatened to expose my father.”
“What happened to Thomas?”
The director looked at me.
“My father locked him in this room.”
I felt sick.
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
Mia gasped.
The director continued.
“Daniel found out.”
I understood.
“He tried to rescue him.”
She nodded.
“Daniel came here at night. He broke the lock. He got Thomas out.”
“Then why did everyone say Thomas disappeared?”
“Because my father threatened Daniel.”
I looked at the elderly man.
He finally spoke.
“Daniel was seventeen. He was terrified. My son was his best friend.”
“Your son?”
He nodded.
“Thomas was my son.”
I stared at him.
The man looked toward the floor.
“My wife and I were told Thomas had run away.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“We searched for him for months.”
“And Daniel knew the truth?”
“He tried to tell us.”
“Why didn’t he?”
The man looked at the director.
“Because your father threatened his family,” she said.
I felt my chest tighten.
“My family?”
“He told Daniel that if he spoke, he would make sure something happened to his parents.”
I closed my eyes.
All these years.
Daniel had carried this secret alone.
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
The director looked down.
“Because he believed keeping silent was the only way to keep you safe.”
I shook my head.
“He could have trusted me.”
“I know.”
I walked toward the wooden box.
There was a small envelope taped to the top.
My name was written on it.
Rebecca.
My hands began shaking.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Daniel’s.
I read the first line.
Rebecca, if you’re reading this, then Mia has found the place I prayed she would never find.
I stopped.
Mia stepped closer.
“Is that Dad?”
I nodded.
My eyes blurred with tears.
I continued.
I wanted to tell you everything. More times than I can count. But every time I tried, I remembered the promise I made to Thomas’s father and the threats against our family.
I swallowed.
The next sentence nearly broke me.
I never stopped looking for Thomas.
I looked at the elderly man.
He was crying.
Daniel’s letter continued.
After I left the camp, I kept investigating. I discovered that my memory of that summer wasn’t complete. There was another person involved.
I froze.
Another person.
I continued reading.
Someone helped my father cover the truth.
My eyes moved down the page.
Then I saw the name.
I dropped the letter.
The director bent down and picked it up.
She read it.
Her face turned white.
“What?”
I grabbed the paper from her.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Who?”
She looked at me.
“It can’t be.”
I pointed to the letter.
“Tell me.”
She whispered:
“My father didn’t act alone.”
I stared at her.
“Who helped him?”
She looked toward the old man.
Then toward me.
“Daniel’s own father.”
I felt the room tilt.
“My father-in-law?”
The director nodded.
“No…”
I stepped backward.
“My father-in-law hated the camp.”
“He had a financial interest in it,” the director said.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will.”
She pointed to the wooden box.
“Open it.”
I lifted the lid.
Inside were dozens of documents.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
Letters.
Legal papers.
And one small cassette tape.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
The elderly man stepped closer.
“Your husband recorded something.”
I found an old cassette player beneath the documents.
My hands shook as I inserted the tape.
There was static.
Then Daniel’s voice.
Older.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
“If you’re hearing this, then I’m probably gone.”
I closed my eyes.
Mia began crying.
Daniel continued.
“Rebecca, I’m sorry.”
The recording paused.
Then he said something that made my heart stop.
“The story about my death isn’t true.”
I opened my eyes.
The director stared at the tape player.
Daniel continued.
“I wasn’t killed because of the camp.”
A long silence.
“I was killed because I was about to expose who really owned the money.”
I looked at the documents.
“Who?”
Daniel’s voice answered the question.
“My father.”
I couldn’t move.
The man I had known as my kind, quiet father-in-law had been involved.
But Daniel wasn’t finished.
“He wasn’t the only one.”
The tape crackled.
“There’s someone else.”
The recording suddenly became distorted.
Then Daniel whispered:
“She is still alive.”
I looked at the director.
“Who is she?”
The tape continued.
“Her name is…”
Static swallowed the next words.
I hit the player.
Nothing.
The tape had stopped.
“No!”
I pressed the button repeatedly.
Nothing.
“Play!”
The elderly man picked up the cassette.
“It may have been damaged.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
I grabbed the tape.
“He was about to tell me.”
Mia suddenly pointed toward the wooden box.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“There’s another tape.”
I looked down.
She was right.
Under the first cassette was a second one.
I picked it up.
A handwritten note was attached.
If the first recording fails, listen to this one.
My heart pounded.
I inserted it.
Static.
Then Daniel’s voice.
But this time, he sounded frightened.
“Rebecca, if you are hearing this, someone has already found the first recording.”
I looked at the door.
Nobody had moved.
Daniel continued.
“There’s something you need to know about Mia.”
My blood ran cold.
“Mia?”
The recording continued.
“Before she was born, I discovered something about her.”
I looked at my daughter.
She stared at me.
“What about me?” she whispered.
Daniel’s voice came through the speaker.
“Your daughter was the reason they were watching us.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?”
The recording continued.
“Because Mia’s birth mother…”
I froze.
Mia was my daughter.
I had given birth to her.
Daniel knew that.
So why had he said birth mother?
The tape crackled.
Then Daniel spoke the words that shattered everything I believed about my own family.
“Rebecca, I’m sorry, but there is something about Mia’s birth that I never told you.”
The room went silent.
Mia looked at me.
“Mom?”
I couldn’t answer.
Daniel continued.
“The woman who gave birth to Mia…”
The tape suddenly cut out.
The lights went off.
Complete darkness swallowed the room.
Mia screamed.
Then we heard the cabin door slam shut above us.
The elderly man shouted:
“Someone’s here!”
The director grabbed my arm.
“Rebecca, we have to leave.”
But before we could move, footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Coming toward us.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
Mia held my hand so tightly that her fingers hurt.
The footsteps stopped outside the room.
Nobody breathed.
A key turned in the lock.
The door opened.
A woman stood in the doorway.
She was older, perhaps in her late sixties.
Her face was pale.
She looked directly at Mia.
Then at me.
And whispered:
“I’ve been looking for my daughter for thirteen years.”
Mia’s hand slipped from mine.
“Mom?”
The woman stepped into the room.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca.”
I stared at her.
“Who are you?”
The woman began to cry.
“My name is Susan.”
She looked at Mia.
“And I am the woman who gave birth to your daughter.”
