A table.
And on the table was a glass containing dried flowers.
Three white flowers.
Noah's breath caught in his throat.
Detective Bennett turned toward him.
“Do you recognize these?”
He couldn't answer.
He didn't have to.
His mother was standing behind him.
The moment she saw the flowers, she covered her mouth.
“No…”
Her knees weakened.
Daniel caught her.
Detective Bennett continued searching.
On the wall was a series of marks.
Small lines scratched into the paint.
Fifteen groups.
One for each year.
Noah stepped closer.
His eyes filled with tears.
Someone had been counting.
Someone had been down there.
For years.
Then they heard something.
A faint sound.
Almost too quiet to notice.
A knock.
Everyone froze.
Another knock.
Three times.
Noah stared at the door at the end of the corridor.
“Did you hear that?”
The detective raised her hand.
Everyone became silent.
Then it came again.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Noah's heart pounded.
Detective Bennett moved toward the door.
She placed her hand on the handle.
Before opening it, she looked at Noah.
“Stay behind me.”
He nodded.
The door opened.
And in the dim light, a woman was sitting on the floor.
She looked older than sixteen.
Much older.
Her hair was longer.
Her face was thinner.
But when she lifted her head, Noah knew.
He knew before anyone said her name.
Three tiny white flowers were embroidered onto the sleeve of her faded shirt.
Noah couldn't breathe.
The woman stared at him.
Her eyes widened.
Then her lips moved.
A voice came out, weak and trembling after years of silence.
“Noah?”
He broke down.
“Lily…”
For fifteen years, he had imagined this moment.
He had imagined finding her in another city.
He had imagined receiving a phone call.
He had imagined seeing her walk through the front door.
He had imagined what he would say.
But when the moment finally came, he could say only one word.
“Lily.”
