Chapter 1 - The Locked Bathroom
Rachel Morgan heard the lock click just as she reached the top of the stairs.
For half a second, she simply stood there.
Then she closed her eyes.
“Caleb.”
No answer.
She crossed the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door with the flat of her hand.
“Caleb, open this now.”
A small voice answered from behind the door.
“No.”
Rachel glanced toward the ceiling.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
She was already twelve minutes late.
Her hair was still damp from the shower. Her navy hospital scrubs were under a wool coat she had thrown on without buttoning, and somewhere downstairs her purse was sitting open on the kitchen counter beside a cup of coffee she had reheated twice and still had not managed to drink.
At five-thirty that evening she was supposed to be inside Harborview, helping with a complicated emergency procedure that had been moved forward because another surgeon had called out sick.
Instead, she was standing outside a bathroom arguing with her nine-year-old son.
Again.
“Mia’s in there with you, isn’t she?”
A tiny sniffle came through the door.
Rachel lowered her voice.
“Mia?”
“I’m here.”
Her four-year-old daughter sounded close to tears.
Rachel pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose.
“Caleb, this is not funny. Open the door.”
“No.”
“Your babysitter is downstairs.”
“I know.”
“She came all the way across town.”
“I know.”
“Then open the door.”
Silence.
Rachel leaned closer.
“Caleb.”
His voice was quieter when he finally answered.
“Mom… call the real babysitter.”
Rachel stopped.
“What?”
There was another pause.
Then Caleb whispered through the door.
“The woman downstairs isn’t her.”
Rachel stared at the white painted wood.
For one strange second, every sound inside the house seemed to disappear.
Then Mia whimpered.
Rachel straightened.
“Caleb, what are you talking about?”
“That’s not Julia.”
Rachel exhaled hard.
There it was.
She had expected something like this.
Not exactly this, maybe, but something.
Caleb had never liked babysitters.
He did not scream or throw tantrums. That would almost have been easier.
Instead, he asked questions.
Too many questions.
How long would Rachel be gone?
What hospital?
What floor?
Could he call?
What if her phone died?
What if the babysitter got sick?
What if somebody knocked on the door?
What if the power went out?
What if Mia choked?
What if there was a fire?
What if—
Rachel had spent years trying to teach him that the world was not waiting around every corner to hurt him.
Sometimes she worried she had done a poor job.
“Caleb,” she said carefully, “you met Julia last week.”
“Yes.”
“She came by for almost forty minutes.”
“I know.”
“And the woman downstairs told me she’s Julia.”
“She’s not.”
Rachel looked toward the staircase.
From downstairs came the faint sound of a cabinet closing.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Everything okay up there?”
Rachel hesitated.
The voice sounded normal.
Friendly.
Maybe slightly uncomfortable, which made perfect sense considering the child she had been hired to watch had apparently barricaded himself in a bathroom.
Rachel called back, “One minute.”
“Take your time.”
Rachel turned back to the door.
“Caleb, tell me why you think that.”
He did not answer.
“Did she say something?”
Nothing.
“Did she do something?”
Still nothing.
Rachel felt the pressure of time tightening around her.
“Caleb, if this is because you don’t want me to go to work—”
“It isn’t.”
“You’ve done this before.”
“I never locked Mia in the bathroom.”
That was true.
Rachel looked down at the thin line of light beneath the door.
“Is Mia okay?”
“Yes.”
“Mia?”
“I’m okay, Mommy.”
“Is Caleb scaring you?”
“No.”
Caleb immediately whispered something Rachel could not make out.
Mia sniffed.
Then she said, “Caleb says we have to be quiet.”
Rachel’s stomach tightened.
She crouched slowly.
“Caleb, listen to me. I’m right outside the door. Nobody is taking Mia anywhere.”
“That’s what she wants.”
Rachel frowned.
“What?”
Before he could answer, footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Rachel turned.
The woman appeared at the end of the hallway.
She looked exactly as she had when Rachel opened the front door ten minutes earlier.
Early thirties, maybe. Brown hair tied back. Gray sweater. Dark jeans. Canvas bag over one shoulder.
Ordinary.
Almost aggressively ordinary.
She gave Rachel an apologetic smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come up. I just thought maybe I could help.”
Rachel stood.
“No, it’s okay.”
The woman glanced at the bathroom door.
“Hey, Caleb?”
There was no answer.
She smiled awkwardly.
“It’s Julia. Remember me?”
Rachel waited.
Nothing.
The woman looked at Rachel.
“He was shy last time too.”
Rachel nodded.
That sounded right.
Caleb had barely spoken during Julia’s introductory visit.
He had sat at the dining table drawing while Mia showed Julia every stuffed animal she owned.
Julia stepped closer to the door.
“I brought the dinosaur pasta you liked.”
Rachel blinked.
Caleb loved dinosaur-shaped pasta.
She did not remember mentioning that.
But perhaps she had.
Or Julia remembered it from the visit.
The woman continued softly.
“And your mom said we could watch that space movie again if you wanted.”
Caleb finally spoke.
“You didn’t watch it with us.”
The woman’s smile faltered.
Only slightly.
“No, I know. Your mom mentioned it.”
Rachel looked between her and the door.
The woman gave a little laugh.
“I think I’m making this worse.”
“Maybe give us a minute,” Rachel said.
“Of course.”
The woman stepped back.
Rachel waited until she disappeared down the stairs.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Caleb.”
He did not respond.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You are locked in the bathroom with your little sister.”
“Because she tried to take Mia downstairs.”
Rachel froze again.
“She what?”
“She said you told her Mia could help get something from the car.”
Rachel’s jaw tightened.
That sounded strange.
Not dangerous.
Just strange.
Rachel had not told Julia anything about needing Mia to go to the car.
“Maybe she wanted help carrying something.”
“She said only Mia.”
Rachel looked toward the stairs.
A thought entered her mind.
Then another immediately pushed it away.
This was ridiculous.
Julia had confirmed the appointment by text that afternoon.
Rachel herself had opened the front door.
The woman had known Rachel’s name.
The kids’ names.
The agreed time.
She had entered the alarm code correctly when Rachel tested her.
She even knew the spare key was behind the wooden bowl near the pantry.
Rachel had told Julia that last week.
Hadn’t she?
She honestly could not remember.
That was the problem with exhaustion.
Her days blurred together.
Surgery, rounds, school pickup, groceries, laundry, dinner, emails, bedtime, sleep if she was lucky.
She leaned closer to the door.
“What exactly makes you think she isn’t Julia?”
Caleb inhaled.
Rachel could almost hear him trying to organize the answer.
“She’s wrong.”
“How?”
“She just is.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Downstairs, a phone rang.
Not hers.
The ringing stopped after two seconds.
Then silence.
Rachel stood.
“I’m going downstairs for a moment.”
“No.”
“Caleb—”
“Mom, don’t leave.”
The fear in his voice hit differently this time.
Not stubbornness.
Not performance.
Fear.
Rachel rested her hand against the door.
“I’m not leaving the house.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She walked toward the stairs.
Halfway down, she saw the woman standing near the kitchen island.
Her canvas bag was now on the floor.
Her phone was in her hand.
She slipped it quickly into her pocket.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Rachel forced a small smile.
“Caleb’s having a rough evening.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It happens.”
The woman nodded.
Then, without thinking, she glanced toward the hallway upstairs.
“Little Bear okay?”
Rachel stopped.
“What?”
The woman smiled.
“Mia. Caleb called her Little Bear earlier, right?”
Rachel stared at her.
“No.”
The woman’s smile remained.
But something inside Rachel shifted.
Not fear yet.
Something colder.
Attention.
Because Caleb did call Mia Little Bear.
All the time.
At home.
In texts to Rachel.
In family messages.
May you like
But Rachel could not remember him saying it once tonight.
And suddenly, for the first time since the bathroom door locked, she wondered if her son might not be imagining anything at all.
