Chapter 3A Grave Beneath The Floorboards

I sat on the floor of that empty closet, staring at those numbers for what felt like hours.

302-2-401.

It wasn't a phone number—too short. It wasn't a birthday.

What was she trying to tell me?

I broke it down in my head. 302... 2... 401.

302-2-401.

I stood up so fast I got dizzy.

Bella grew up in an old neighborhood on the South Side. Before the developers started tearing it down, I’d been to her house hundreds of times.

Building 302. Entrance 2. Apartment 401.

Every time I’d go over to play, her mom would lean out the window and shout, "Bella! Your friend is here!"

But that complex had been scheduled for demolition three years ago. Her family had moved out ages ago.

Why would she carve that address here?

What was waiting for me at the ruins of her childhood home?

I sprinted out of the condo.

The drive to the South Side took forty minutes. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my hands cramped.

As I approached the highway ramp, I checked my rearview mirror.

A white van was behind me. It was keeping a steady distance—not tailgating, just... there.

I tried to ignore it and merged onto the expressway.

The van merged too.

I switched lanes.

The van switched lanes.

My heart started thudding against my ribs. I took the next exit, made three quick turns, and ducked into a side street.

The van was still there.

Sweat poured down my back. I swerved into a mall parking garage, wound through the levels, and tucked my car into a dark corner. I cut the engine and waited.

Ten minutes passed. The van didn't appear.

I leaned back against the headrest, gasping for air. Someone was watching me.

If there were cameras at Bella’s new place, or if the smart lock recorded entries... whoever was pretending to be her knew I’d been there.

I forced myself to breathe. I pulled out my phone and mounted it on the dashboard, hitting "record" on the video app.

Then I sent a text to my coworker, Morgan.

"I’m going to check something out. I’m sending you my live location. If you don't hear from me in two hours, call the police."

Morgan replied instantly: ??? Jo, what’s going on?!

I didn't explain. I shared my location and restarted the car.

When I finally reached the old neighborhood, I saw that the demolition was only half-finished.

The south side of the block was a graveyard of bricks and twisted rebar. But on the north side, two old brick buildings were still standing, their windows caked in dust, looking like skeletons that had forgotten to fall over.

Building 302 was one of them.

I walked to the entrance. The dust on the stairs was disturbed—fresh footprints, some large, some small, back and forth.

This wasn't just a squatter. It was too frequent.

I followed the tracks up the stairs.

Second floor. Third floor. Fourth floor.

I reached the door to 401.

The sharp, chemical scent of bleach drifted through the door frame.

It was the exact same smell from Bella's new condo.

I stood there, my hand hovering over the wood. I didn't dare knock.

This was her family’s old place. The only people who would have a key were her parents or her brother.

Bella always told me how much her parents loved her. How Tyler, though quiet, was always protective.

She’d even secretly added her parents' names to the deed of her new house as a surprise for their retirement.

She gave everything to that family. She loved them with every fiber of her being.

But the final clue she’d carved into her closet led here.

To her roots. To the people she trusted most.

I stood at the door of 401, trying to steady my shaking hands, and finally tried the knob.

It was locked.

I pushed, but it wouldn't budge.

The smell of bleach was stronger now, seeping out of the cracks, but I was stuck on the outside.

As I walked back down the stairs, my feet felt like lead.

Near the entrance, an elderly woman in a faded cardigan was sitting on a stone bench, peeling vegetables.

I recognized her. Mrs. Gable. She used to live right below Bella’s family. When we were kids, she used to give us peppermint candies whenever we passed her door.

"Mrs. Gable?"

She squinted at me through thick glasses.

"Is that... Joanna?"

"Yes, it’s me."

"Oh, sweetheart, it’s been years! You looking for Bella? They moved out a long time ago."

I knelt down beside her.

"Mrs. Gable, has anyone been back lately? To the old apartment upstairs?"

The old woman thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. A couple of weeks ago. Her parents were here."

My heart skipped a beat.

"When?"

"Last week, maybe? I can't be sure. They came at night in a white van. I heard the noise and looked out my window."

A van.

A white van.

Just like the one that had been following me.