Chapter 2 - THE SHADOW IN THE CLOSET
The night everything shattered was cold and pitch-black, the rain coming down in heavy sheets against the glass panels of our bedroom. Andrew was snoring softly beside me, completely oblivious, or completely uncaring. The clock on my nightstand read 2:58 A.M. A soft, high-pitched static blared from the baby monitor, followed by a sudden silence that made my pulse spike. The screen flashed black, then flickered once. In the infrared night-vision light, Liam’s crib was empty.
I sat up instantly, sweat pooling at the back of my neck. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was a glitch, a ghosting image on the digital screen. But the mattress was clear, the little blue blanket kicked to the side. Panicking, I threw off the duvet, didn't bother grabbing a robe, and sprinted down the silent, carpeted hallway toward the nursery. My bare feet made no sound against the cold marble floor. The door to Liam's nursery was pushed wide open, swaying slightly in a draft.
The room was plunged into shadow, save for the soft blue glow of the nightlight shaped like a crescent moon. "Liam?" I whispered, my voice trembling. The crib was indeed empty. My heart thrashed wildly against my ribs like a trapped bird. I spun around, ready to scream Andrew’s name, when I heard it—a smothered hush, coming from inside the walk-in closet at the back of the room.
I stepped closer, creeping toward the open closet door. Inside, tucked behind hanging rows of tiny cashmere sweaters and heavy winter coats, sat Nora. She was huddled on the floor, holding my six-month-old baby tightly to her chest. She had her hand clamped softly over Liam's mouth, hushing him frantically, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror. Sweat glistened on her pale forehead, and her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
"Nora?!" I shrieked, horror and fury surging through me. I reached down to snatch my son from her arms. "What on earth are you doing?! Give me my baby! Are you insane?!"
Nora didn't fight me when I took Liam, but she grabbed my wrist with a grip so fierce, so ice-cold, it left a bruise. Her face was contorted in a mask of absolute horror. She put a trembling finger to her lips and leaned close to my ear. Her breath smelled of stale coffee and pure adrenaline.
"Shh! Please, ma'am, keep your voice down! You don't understand!" she whimpered, her voice barely a rough whisper. "I'm not trying to hurt him. I'm trying to protect him!"
"Protect him from what?!" I snapped, pulling Liam tightly into my arms. He began to cry, confused and cold, pressing his forehead into my collarbone. "You're hiding in a closet at three in the morning! I'm calling the police!"
Nora shook her head wildly, tears spilling down her cheeks. "If you call the police, they won't believe you, and they will take him away forever! Look at me, Claire! Look at this house! You think you're the only mother here?" She pulled me down into the closet, shutting the door until only a thin strip of light cut across her face.
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My breath hitched. "What are you talking about?"
Nora leaned in, her knuckles white as she squeezed my hands. "There's another child," she whispered, the words hovering in the pitch-dark air like a curse. "There is another child hidden in this house. And tonight... they are coming to replace yours."
