Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
My hands shake violently as I navigate through the camera feeds, my fingers trembling so badly I nearly miss the keys. I click through view after view, each one revealing another piece of Daniel's surveillance network.
God, there are so many cameras. The sheer number of them makes my skin crawl, makes me wonder how I ever felt safe in this building, in this apartment.
Daniel really was paranoid—or maybe paranoid isn't even the right word for it.
This goes beyond paranoia. This is obsession.
This is control taken to a level I couldn't have imagined, even after everything I've seen him do.
"Nothing here," Raine mutters, leaning closer to the screen.
I keep clicking. Lobby. Hallway. Parking lot.
Then I click on one labeled "Maintenance room."
My breath hitches.
Are my eyes playing tricks on me?
Am I imagining this?
Am I going insane?
"Oh my God,” I whisper, my heart hammering violently against my ribcage.
There she is.
Right there on the grainy, flickering black-and-white feed, her form barely distinguishable through the poor quality of the camera.
A girl. A real, living, breathing girl. She's curled up in a tight ball on a thin mattress that's been thrown carelessly on what looks like bare concrete floor, her body small and vulnerable in the harsh shadows of the maintenance room's single overhead light.
Claudia.
"Holy shit!" Raine leans in, eyes wide. "This is crazy shit!"
I want to say something… anything. But the words die in my throat. My chest feels tight, constricted, like someone's wrapped steel bands around my ribcage and keeps pulling them tighter. I try to draw in air, but it catches somewhere between my lungs and my mouth, refusing to cooperate.
My stomach feels queasy, twisting itself into impossible knots. The nausea rises in waves, hot and acidic, climbing up my throat. I have to swallow hard, fighting against the bile that threatens to spill out right here, right now, all over Daniel's pristine, ridiculously expensive Persian rug.
She's alive.
Claudia is alive.
The feed is blurry, the image degraded, but I can make her out.
That sweet face I remember, now gaunt and hollow.
She's wearing what looks like an oversized t-shirt, her knees pulled to her chest. There's a mattress—just a bare mattress—thrown on the concrete floor.
In the corner, a portable toilet. Next to the makeshift bed, a metal shelf stocked with bottled water and what might be granola bars or canned food.
No windows. No way out.
"Jesus Christ," I whisper. "He kept her down there."
My mind races, trying to calculate. When did Claudia disappear? I remember exactly, back to when it was first on the news. Is this how long this girl’s been trapped in that basement room?
"We need to call the cops," Raine says, already pulling out his phone.
"Wait." I grab his wrist, eyes still fixed on the screen. "We need to get her out first. She can't spend one more second in there.
"Liza." Julian's voice cuts through from the doorway. "How's it going in here?"
"Julian." My voice cracks. I can't look away from the screen, from Claudia curled up on that filthy mattress. "Come here."
His footsteps cross the hardwood, slow at first, then faster when he sees my face. He leans over my shoulder, and I feel his whole body go rigid.
"No."
"Look." I point at the feed, at the girl who's been missing for months, the girl everyone assumed ran away with her drug-dealer boyfriend… and just never came back. The girl who's been here. Right here. All this time. "It's her. It's Claudia."
Julian grips the back of my chair, knuckles white. "Where is that?"
"Maintenance room." I click through the menu, trying to find any identifying markers. "It's in the basement. Has to be."
Raine's already standing, shoving his laptop and tools back into his briefcase. "We're getting her out."
"Now." Julian's already moving toward the door, his face hard and determined in a way I've never seen before. "We're getting her out right now."
I'm on my feet, following him out of the apartment. All thoughts of being caught, of breaking and entering charges, of someone seeing us—gone. Evaporated. This girl has been trapped down there for months while we've been tiptoeing around, worried about cameras and getting caught.
We sprint to the elevator. I jab the button repeatedly, uselessly, until the doors finally slide open.
The ride down feels endless. Raine shifts his weight from foot to foot. Julian stares straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight I worry he'll crack a tooth.
When the doors open to the basement level, we burst out.
The hallway stretches before us, dim and concrete, lined with storage cages for tenants. At the far end, a door marked "Maintenance - Authorized Personnel Only."
Julian reaches it first, grabs the handle.
Locked.
"Shit!" He yanks harder, rattling the metal door in its frame.
"There has to be another way in," I say, my voice rising with panic. "A back entrance, a—"
"Call the police." Julian pulls out his phone. "Call them now."
But I can't tear my mind away from that haunting image flickering before me. From Claudia, trapped and utterly alone in that pitch-black basement, surrounded by concrete walls.
"Liza!" Julian hisses.
“Yes… sorry.”
He grabs my hand. “Let’s go back upstairs, and we’ll make the call.”
Then the three of us run.
Julian's voice fills the lobby, low and urgent. "Yes, 1247 Maple Street. The basement. She's in the basement, in the maintenance room—locked in."
I pace a tight circle on the marble floor, arms wrapped around myself, shaking. My legs feel disconnected from my body, like I'm operating on pure adrenaline and nothing else.
Six days.
The number pounds through my skull with each heartbeat.
Six days since the parking garage incident. Six days since Julian's fist connected with Daniel's skull. Six days since Daniel's head slammed against that concrete pillar.
Claudia's been alone down there for six days.
My stomach lurches again. Did Daniel leave her enough food? Enough water? What if she's hurt? What if she's—
No. I saw her move on the camera. She's alive.
"They're asking for the building manager," Julian says, hand pressed against his other ear to block out the ambient noise.
"Fuck the building manager!" The words burst out of me, sharp and loud. "Break the door down!"
Raine shifts his briefcase to his other hand. "She's right, man. We could—"
"I know." Julian's eyes meet mine, dark and tortured. "Just give me a second—"
"Are they coming or not?"
"Yes," Julian says, and then turns his back to me, speaking to the operator again.
"Raine," I yell. "Get out of here. I don't want you implicated. "
Raine immediately protests, stepping forward with his jaw set. "No way, Liza. I'm not leaving you here to deal with this alone." His voice carries that stubborn edge I've heard him use in arguments before, the one that says he's ready to dig his heels in and fight.
"Raine, please." I turn to face him fully, trying to make him understand. "You could be arrested. You could lose your whole career. Everything you've worked for." My voice cracks slightly. "I can't let that happen."
He opens his mouth to argue again, but something in my expression must register because he pauses.
His shoulders sag just slightly, the fight draining out of him as reality sets in.
He knows I'm right—knows that being involved in breaking into someone's apartment, even for the right reasons, could destroy everything he's built.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair. But he's already bending down to gather his briefcase, his movements reluctant but resigned. "You call me the second they get her. I mean it, Liza."
"I will. I promise." Relief washes through me despite the chaos. He's been so kind, so willing to help me navigate this nightmare. The last thing I want—the absolute last thing—is to drag him down with us and ruin his future.
I can't stand here anymore, rooted to this spot like some useless fixture.
My muscles are coiled tight, vibrating with the need to do something—anything.
Every second that ticks by while we wait feels like another second Claudia suffers down there in that dark room.
The helplessness is suffocating, wrapping around my throat like invisible fingers.
I hate this feeling—this powerless, standing-around-waiting feeling that makes my skin crawl and my heart pound against my ribs.
I punch the elevator button, once, twice, three times.
"Liza, where are you—"
"Colleen," I snap over my shoulder. "She needs to know."
The elevator doors slide open and I step inside. My finger jabs the button for the third floor. The ride up takes forever, each floor marker lighting up with agonizing slowness.
Third floor. Finally.
I sprint down the hall and pound on Colleen's door.
"Colleen! Open up!"
Footsteps. The deadbolt clicks.
She pulls the door open, face pale. "Liza? What—"
"We found her." The words tumble out in a rush. "Claudia. She's alive."
Colleen's hand flies to her mouth, fingers shaking against her lips. Her eyes go wide with shock. "What?" The word comes out barely above a whisper, strangled and disbelieving. "Where is she?"
"Daniel kept her in the maintenance room. In the basement. We saw her on the security cameras—she's there right now."
"Oh my God." Colleen grabs my arm, fingers digging in. "Is she okay? Is she hurt?"
"I don't know." Tears blur my vision. "I think she's okay. The police are coming. Julian's on the phone with them now. God… she's been alone for a week.”
“A week?”
“Six days.”
Colleen's face crumples.
She grabs her sneakers from beside the door and shoves her feet into them, not bothering with the laces. "Let's go."