Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN ACROSS THE FENCE
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Three days after the garden incident, Daniel returned to the house for the
first time. He did not go alone.
Elena had advised him to avoid unnecessary confrontation, so Claire drove
with him, and a neutral third party arranged through counsel was present
while Daniel collected clothes, school materials, and medication.
Rebecca was not supposed to be there. Still, Daniel’s pulse accelerated when
the front door opened. The foyer smelled exactly the same.
Lemon polish. White lilies. A faint trace of Rebecca’s perfume trapped in
the curtains. Nothing about the house acknowledged that the family had split
open.
Daniel climbed the stairs toward Ethan’s room. The walls were lined with
photographs: beach vacations, birthdays, Christmas mornings, a family
portrait taken in the same backyard where the tunnel had collapsed.
He stopped before the portrait. Rebecca stood in the center with one arm
around Madison and one around Ethan. Daniel stood behind them, smiling.
He remembered the photographer saying, “Closer, everyone.” They had obeyed.
Physical closeness had been easy.
Knowing one another had been harder. Inside Ethan’s room, the bed was neatly
made. A row of model airplanes lined one shelf. His newer sketchbook sat on
the desk.
Daniel opened the closet and began packing clothes. Then he noticed an old
cardboard box shoved behind a laundry hamper.
He pulled it out. Inside were things Ethan had supposedly lost. A blue
baseball cap. Two comic books. A handheld game console.
Three birthday cards from Daniel’s parents. And the missing phone. Daniel
sat back on his heels. For a few seconds, he could only stare.
Rebecca had not merely punished Ethan in moments of anger. She had curated
his confusion. She had taken objects, hidden them, and then watched him
doubt himself.
Claire appeared in the doorway. “What is it?” Daniel pointed. Her expression
hardened. He photographed everything before touching it further, then
contacted Elena for instructions on preserving what might be relevant.
As he packed the box, a voice came from outside the open window. “Daniel?”
He looked down. Their neighbor, Mrs. Evelyn Price, stood on the other side
of the fence with gardening gloves in one hand. She was in her late sixties
and had lived next door longer than Daniel had owned the house.
“I heard you were here,” she called. Daniel went downstairs and stepped into
the backyard. The training tunnel was gone.
So were the broken flowerpot and plastic stakes. Rebecca had cleaned
everything. Only a pale rectangle in the grass showed where the tunnel had
been.
Mrs. Price remained behind the fence. “I don’t want to intrude,” she said.
Daniel almost laughed at the irony. For years, everyone had been careful not
to intrude.
“What is it?” She removed one glove finger by finger. “I heard shouting that
day.” Daniel waited. “I also heard things before that.”
His stomach tightened. “What things?” Mrs. Price looked embarrassed. “A
whistle. More than once.” “When?”
“Over the last month, maybe five weeks.” Daniel stared at her. “I thought
the children were playing with some kind of obstacle course,” she continued.
“Then one evening I heard Ethan crying.”
“What evening?” “I don’t remember the date. It had rained earlier. I was
bringing my cushions inside.” Daniel remembered a storm two weeks ago.
“What did you hear?” Mrs. Price looked toward the house, as if the windows
could still listen. “He said, ‘Please let me call Dad.’”
Daniel’s hands went cold. “What did Rebecca say?” “I couldn’t hear all of
it. Something about earning trust.”
Mrs. Price swallowed. “I almost called you.” Daniel looked at her. “Why
didn’t you?” Her face folded with guilt. “Because I convinced myself I
didn’t know enough.”
The answer hurt because Daniel understood it. He had done the same thing
from inside the house. Mrs. Price continued. “I’m sorry.”
Daniel exhaled slowly. “If someone asks what you heard, just tell them
exactly that. No more and no less.”
“I will.” As he turned away, she called his name again. “There’s one more
thing.” Daniel faced her. Mrs. Price raised her phone.
“My doorbell camera sees part of your side gate.” Daniel’s heart kicked. “It
doesn’t see the backyard,” she said quickly. “But it records people coming
and going.”
“Why does that matter?” “Because Rebecca told me you had been home most
afternoons.” Daniel frowned. “I wasn’t.”
“I know.” Mrs. Price unlocked her phone and scrolled. “She told me that
after I asked why Ethan seemed to be outside alone so often.”
Daniel stared at her. “Alone?” “On the side patio. Sometimes for quite a
while.” His mind returned to Ethan’s statement about being left outside
after the wet-towel incident.
Mrs. Price held the phone through the fence. A recording showed Ethan
sitting on the covered side patio at 7:16 p.m. He wore pajamas and held his
arms around his knees.
The sky behind him was darkening. The side door remained closed. The clip
ended. Another recording began twenty minutes later.
Ethan was still there. Daniel’s vision blurred. Mrs. Price spoke softly. “I
saved the clips after I heard what happened.”
Daniel looked at her. “Please don’t send them around.” “I won’t.” “Share
them only with the investigator or counsel if requested.”
She nodded. Daniel went back inside feeling as if every ordinary object had
become evidence of a life he had misunderstood.
In the kitchen, Claire stood beside the island. “You okay?” “No.” “Good
answer.” He almost smiled. Then a car pulled into the driveway.
Claire moved toward the front window. “That’s Rebecca.” Daniel’s entire body
went rigid. The neutral third party immediately stepped into the foyer.
Rebecca entered through the front door holding a leather purse and wearing
sunglasses despite the shade. She stopped when she saw Daniel.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Rebecca noticed the cardboard box in his
hands. Her face changed. “Where did you get that?”
Daniel looked down at the missing phone and birthday cards. “Ethan’s
closet.” Rebecca removed her sunglasses.
“You went through my things?” “They were in his room.” “That box was
private.” Daniel felt anger rise, but he remembered Elena’s instruction.
Do not improvise. He set the box on the table. “Rebecca, we are not
discussing this here.” She stepped closer. “You’re poisoning everyone
against me.”
Daniel backed away rather than matching her movement. “No. I’m leaving.” Her
voice broke. “Daniel, please.”
It was the first time he had heard fear beneath her anger. For one second,
he saw the woman he had married, not the person from the camera footage.
That made the moment harder, not easier. “I loved you,” he said quietly.
Rebecca’s eyes filled. “Then come home.”
Daniel looked toward the backyard. “No.” “Because of one terrible
afternoon?” He looked at the box. Then at the staircase.
Then at the side door where Ethan had waited outside in the dark. “No,”
Daniel said. “Because it wasn’t one afternoon.”
Rebecca’s face hardened again. The softness disappeared as quickly as it
came. “You’ll regret this.” Daniel picked up the box.
“Maybe.” He opened the front door. “But Ethan won’t regret being believed.”
He walked out without looking back.
Across the fence, Mrs. Price stood among her roses, watching quietly. The
neighborhood was still beautiful.
The lawns were still green. The houses still looked expensive and safe. But
Daniel no longer trusted appearances.
He trusted records. He trusted patterns. And most of all, he was learning to
trust the small voice that had told him, long before the camera did, that
May you like
something in his home was wrong.
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