The First Text

Lucas squinted at her. 'You're shaking, Mom. What's going on?'

Sylvia didn't answer. She couldn't. The phone in Lucas's hand was a smoking gun, and the smoke was filling the room, choking her.

"Give it to me," she whispered. She reached out, but Lucas pulled it back.

"No." His voice was hard, a tone she recognized. It was the voice he used when a contractor tried to cut corners. "You lied. You said you found this in the attic. But this message just came in. It's live."

He pressed the center button.

"Lucas, don't—"

He ignored her. He navigated the clunky, pixelated menu. *Messages. Inbox.*

He read the screen. His brow furrowed.

"It's from... 'E'." He looked up at her. "Who is E?"

Sylvia sank onto the edge of the bed. Her legs wouldn't hold her anymore. "I don't know."

"You don't know who is texting a secret phone hidden under a bed in our house?" Lucas's laugh was sharp, devoid of humor. "Mom, are you... are you having an affair?"

The absurdity of the question almost made her laugh. An affair? Her? The woman who hadn't bought a new dress without consulting Robert in a decade?

"No," she said. "It's not mine."

"Then whose is it?"

Sylvia looked at the phone. She looked at the grey suitcase in the closet, its latches glinting in the dim light. She looked at her son, who was looking at her like she was a stranger.

"It was in the wall," she said quietly.

"What?"

"The wall in the master bedroom. Behind the closet. Mateo found a room. A hidden room. This was inside."

Lucas stared at her. "A hidden room? You mean like a safe?"

"Like a room," she said. "With a chair. And this phone. And baby clothes from before you were born."

She saw the doubt in his eyes. He thought she was snapping. The stress of the stroke, the renovation. He thought she was losing her mind.

"Show me," he said.

He marched out of the room, phone still in hand. Sylvia followed him, her heart thudding against her ribs.

They went into the master bedroom. The hole in the wall was gaping, a dark wound in the pristine plaster.

Lucas stopped. He shined his own phone's flashlight into the void. He saw the chair. He saw the empty space where the suitcase had been.

He turned back to her, his face pale. "Dad built this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

The burner phone in his hand buzzed again.

Lucas looked down at it.

"Another one," he said. "From E."

"Read it," Sylvia said. She felt a strange calm settle over her. The dam had broken. The water was rising. There was no point in swimming anymore.

Lucas opened the message. He read it silently. His face went slack.

"What does it say?" Sylvia asked.

Lucas looked up. His eyes were wide, filled with a confusion that mirrored her own.

"It says... 'The hospital called. They said Robert Vance. Is that you, Dad?'"

The last message read: 'The hospital called. They said Robert Vance. Is that you, Dad?'