Molly greeted Inspector O’Halloran with a smile and a trace of nervousness, betrayed by her sharp and somewhat unnecessary movements. She led him into the kitchen and offered him coffee. Shane did not refuse.

  “And this is Sophie, my son Joshua’s wife,” the woman said, introducing a petite blonde. “You have already met him, detective.”

  “Good afternoon,” Shane greeted the young woman politely and finally took a seat. “And where is Angela?”

  “She is in her place,” Molly replied, casting a strange, fleeting glance toward Sophie. The girl busied herself with the coffee, while Molly sat down across from O’Halloran. “I wanted to speak with you first.”

  “Well then…” Shane folded his hands neatly in front of him and prepared to listen.

  “All of this is rather strange, detective. I have thought about it a great deal, but I still cannot find an answer to such a delicate question.”

  “What kind of strangeness do you mean, Mrs. Daniel?”

  Molly looked out the window. Her beautiful features were framed by silver touched hair, pinned back at the temples with a barrette. She had kind eyes. At that moment she was anxious and perhaps confused by recent events, yet she did not repel but instead inspired warmth and leniency.

  “The night before Angela came here…” she began, but Shane interrupted her.

  “She came on her own?”

  “Yes. But do not rush, detective.”

  Sophie placed cups of freshly brewed coffee and a small bowl of biscuits in front of them, then sat down on a chair nearby. They formed a half square arrangement: Molly to the right of the window, O’Halloran across from her, and Sophie to Molly’s left. Throughout the conversation, Sophie did not say a single word, yet she did not leave Molly alone with the detective even for a moment.

  “That night I was alone. My husband was staying with our son. I could not sleep and decided to make some tea. To be honest, detective, some strange feeling drew me out of my room. I noticed Angela through the window. She was in the garden. In the garden, do you understand? Free.”

  “What was she doing in the garden?”

  “Eating an apple,” Molly replied. “We spoke a little. I gave her my shawl and asked whether the people from the tent had seen her. She pointed toward the lake. And then she sent me away.”

  “And after that she came to you?”

  “No. She came in the morning. But that night I saw something else as well.”

  Shane raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  “She was swimming in the lake,” Molly whispered, as if afraid someone might hear them. “I had the impression that she had done it many times before.”

  “She was swimming in the lake in April, when the snow had barely melted?”

  “Yes, detective. She was swimming at night, in the cold, completely unclothed.”

  “Where did she go afterward?”

  “She disappeared behind the fence. Unfortunately, my age and my bad legs did not allow me to follow her.”

  Shane could not make sense of it. How was that even possible? If she had not left through the hatch, then there must be another exit in the basement. But if there was an exit, why had she not escaped? Only Angela could answer that. For now, everything smelled of recklessness or madness at the very least.

  Molly’s eloquent look and the prolonged pause made it clear to the detective that the moment had come to see the girl.

  “Where is Angela now?”

  “She is resting in the laundry room. Or rather, under the stairs. I have a storage room and a laundry space there. I tried to put her in the guest room, but Angela went downstairs and confidently headed toward the door beneath the staircase.”

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  “You said confidently. Could that mean she has been in this house before?”

  Molly answered without hesitation.

  “Think about it, detective. If the girl went out into the garden to eat and to the lake to wash herself, she could easily have come to this house. The realtor said the house had been empty for almost a year.”

  “That is a fair point.” Shane glanced toward the staircase. From the kitchen, only a few steps were visible. The door beneath the stairs was out of sight. Sighing, he finished his coffee, thanked Sophie, and turned back to Molly. “May I see her?”

  “Of course, detective. It is in our best interest not to frighten her. You remember that.”

  They stood and walked into the living room. Sophie stayed behind in the kitchen, washing the cups.

  Shane stared at the only closed door beneath the staircase.

  “There?”

  “One moment. I will try to call her.”

  When the woman disappeared into the storage room, Shane slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and looked around. Thinking about the injustice of such inhuman oppression, such absolute deprivation of freedom, he fixed his gaze on a bush in the corner. What secret did this house conceal? Did the O’Flahertys, obsessed with their peculiar religion, have anything to do with this girl?

  Do not frighten her.

  If it were up to Shane, he would have poured out all his questions at once. But that was impossible. He looked again at the door beneath the stairs. In the silence, only the steady ticking of the clock above the fireplace could be heard. The living room was spacious and very cozy, not cluttered with furniture. People Molly Daniel’s age usually filled every empty corner with objects, but here everything was measured. A rocking chair stood by the fireplace, with a small table beside it for glasses or a book. Opposite was a soft sofa, and a thick Persian rug lay on the wooden floor.

  Shane wondered whether Angela felt safe beneath the stairs. In the basement, she had fled beneath the staircase. Here, she had confidently gone to the room under the stairs. Why? What could the staircase protect her from? Could this be a childhood habit, O’Halloran asked himself. But his thoughts broke off there.

  Molly came into the living room, with Angela following her.

  O’Halloran lost the power of speech for a second. The girl standing before him was nothing like the one he had seen in the dark basement, barefoot, in a dirty torn dress, with greasy hair. She was wearing a black knitted dress down to her knees, and warm striped socks on her feet. Her long, clean, silky hair fell over her small shoulders. And despite the toy in her hand, the inspector’s first thought was that she was incredibly young and beautiful.

  “Angela is ready to speak with you, detective,” Molly said, pulling him back to reality.

  The three of them sat at an oval table, covered with a napkin knitted by Molly’s caring hands. Sophie remained in the kitchen. The clatter of dishes could be heard. Before long, appetizing smells would drift in from there.

  Angela sat motionless beside Molly, her head lowered. She tightly clutched the still dirty teddy bear.

  “Angela, I would like to ask you a few things,” Shane began. “I am not going to hurt you, and I will not insist if you do not want to continue. Remember, I am a friend. You can trust me. Nod your head if the answer is yes, and shake it from side to side if the answer is no. Agreed?”

  Angela nodded.

  “Have you been living in the basement for a long time?”

  A nod.

  “If you can count, show me on your fingers how many months you have lived there.”

  The girl shrugged. She did not know.

  “Could you go outside?”

  Silence.

  “Did you eat fruit and vegetables from the garden?”

  Silence.

  At some point, Angela’s behavior began to irritate Shane, but he gradually regained control and decided to take a different approach.

  “Do you like swimming?”

  Angela nodded eagerly, a smile appearing on her face.

  “Did other people see you when you swam in the lake?”

  A no.

  “Do you know your real name?”

  The girl looked straight at him, holding his gaze for several seconds. Her eyes began to water involuntarily from the bright daylight. But Shane waited. He held her gaze, as if silently repeating the question: say your name, and you will make this easier for all of us.

  At last, Angela nodded that she knew it. A sigh of relief escaped Molly, who had seemed to be holding her breath until then.

  “Good,” Shane said. “Can you write? If I give you a pen and a piece of paper, can you write your name?” He spoke while taking a pen and a small notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket.

  Angela hesitated, then took the pen. The tension thickened in the air, as if wrapping the entire table in a heavy blanket. The girl began to draw something on the paper. She held the pen incorrectly. Molly noticed it at once, remarking that this was how children who had only recently started school usually held a pen.

  Angela made a few strokes, then dropped the pen onto the table and shook her head to indicate that she did not want to or could not continue. Then she stood up and ran into the room beneath the stairs.

  “I think that is enough for her today,” Molly said helplessly.

  “You are right, Mrs. Daniel. But I will come tomorrow. You will allow that?”

  “Of course. I want to get to the bottom of this story just as much as you do. I will do everything I can to find out new information for you.”

  “Thank you for your assistance in the investigation,” Shane said with a smile, then stood and took his notebook.

  He said goodbye to Molly and Sophie, and once in the car, he decided to take a look at the girl’s scribbles after all. He was extremely surprised when he saw a barely recognizable letter K.