Molly Daniel came to see the cottage. Until now, she had only seen it in photographs her husband had shown her. But now that renovations had begun, she wanted to take part in everything herself—after all, her long-cherished dream had finally come true. She had already imagined the perfect interior, knew exactly which curtains she would hang, how the ceilings would be finished, and what colors the rooms would be painted. And no one was going to stop her—not even the police officers constantly moving around their property.

  For the first half hour, she walked through the house, examining the finishing work, talking to the workers, and giving instructions. All that time, Clive sat at a plastic table in the kitchen, talking on the phone.

  “This is simply wonderful!” Molly exclaimed as she came down the wooden staircase she intended to varnish later. “The house is designed so conveniently. And the kitchen is so spacious!”

  “And the windows overlook the garden,” Clive added, slipping his phone into the back pocket of his trousers. “Have you seen the greenhouse yet?”

  “Yes! I can’t even put into words how delighted I am,” the woman said, smiling broadly as she looked out the window. “In a couple of months, I’ll already be able to work in the garden. Oh, Clive, I’ve dreamed of this for so long!”

  She didn’t see her husband nod. Her attention had been caught by the tent and the barely visible roof of an outbuilding beyond the kitchen window. Her expression suddenly grew serious.

  “Darling, have they taken that girl out of the basement yet?”

  “Not yet. They can’t just take her and move her somewhere,” Clive explained. “Doctor Leary said it could affect her psyche. The girl has to come upstairs voluntarily. They assume she was abused. Of course, the investigation and medical tests will clarify everything later, but for now they want to do everything gently.”

  “It’s strange that she doesn’t come out,” Molly said thoughtfully. “Anyone longs to be free. The door is open, yet she doesn’t rush outside. Don’t you find that odd, dear?”

  “For all of us, that girl and her time in that basement are a mystery. Who knows what happened there.”

  Molly slowly scanned the ceilings with her gaze.

  “And where are the former owners of this house?”

  “I didn’t ask the realtor,” the man replied guiltily, looking toward the outbuilding. “I didn’t think it was important.”

  Molly fell silent, as if weighing something in her mind. Her cheekbones tightened, her lips pressed together, her gaze focused.

  “What if I try?” she suddenly said aloud. “Sometimes you have to try everything.”

  “But, Molly, the detective won’t like it. Joshua already volunteered to go down there and only made things worse.”

  Molly took her husband’s hand. Her features softened into a carefree smile.

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  “I’ve worked almost my entire life in an elementary school,” she said. “Do you really think I could frighten a child the way Joshua did?”

  “I trust you, of course,” Clive said hesitantly. “But what exactly can you do?”

  “Open my heart to her.”

  Those words worked better than any argument. Clive called Detective O’Halloran, and after receiving his approval, Molly headed toward the shed. The officers on duty that day tried to stop her, but Clive explained that the detective had given permission and was on his way. The uniformed men stepped aside, letting the woman pass. Clive chose to remain outside.

  Molly did not enter the basement right away. At first, she stood listening intently to the sounds drifting up from below. The corners of the elderly woman’s lips trembled. She knew that melody well. The voice flowed in waves—starting softly, rising, then falling again. A good old lullaby. She herself had sung it to Joshua and Tara when they were little.

  Stepping onto the stairs, she began to hum along with the melody she heard:

  “Sleep now, close your eyes…

  Mama is right beside you…”

  The voice below fell silent, but Molly did not stop. She sang gently:

  “I’ll protect you from all harm…

  You’ll wake up in my arms…

  Guardian angels are near…”

  The last step—and she found herself in a dark, damp room. The dim light filtering through the hatch was enough to reveal movement in the far corner. Molly stopped, staring at the indistinct human figure, and only then finished the lullaby:

  “So sleep without fear.”

  Silence settled in.

  Molly thought about how best to approach the poor girl, what she could say without frightening her. She also tried hard not to focus on the revolting smell of decay, unwashed body, and filth. How could anyone live here?

  “My poor dear,” Molly said aloud, trying to address the girl without looking directly at her. “Who could have done this to you?”

  She turned toward the girl and noticed that she was watching her with curiosity.

  “Do you like this house?”

  The girl slowly shook her head from side to side—no.

  Molly did not want to rejoice. It was far too early for that. But she also couldn’t ignore the fragile contact that had begun to form.

  “Why don’t you come out?” she asked. There was a pause. The girl continued to look at Molly—in her neat white dress, fastened at the chest with a shining brooch; her light hair gathered at the back of her head in a shell-like twist. There was an almost unnatural glow of kindness and tenderness about Molly. But her tone changed, becoming as if she were speaking to herself.

  “Someone hurt you, so you’re hiding. You feel safe here, don’t you? You’re afraid?”

  A nod. Yes.

  Molly lowered her gaze thoughtfully once more. Then, suddenly, an idea came to her. During her years at school, she always told struggling students the same thing: It’s not time to give up. Slowly. Brick by brick.

  Brick by brick.

  “I’ll come visit you every day,” Molly said cheerfully. “We’ll replace your bed and tidy things up a bit. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  The girl nodded rapidly. Molly wasn’t sure, but it seemed the girl smiled.

  “Good. But we need to get acquainted,” Molly continued softly. “What should I call you?”

  Silence. The girl turned away, clutching something tightly in her hands.

  “I’m Molly,” the woman hurried to say, afraid of losing the fragile thread that had miraculously connected them. “You don’t know your name? Would you like me to give you a new one?”

  The pale, timid girl—with frightened eyes peeking out from beneath dirty hair—brightened. And Molly understood that she didn’t mind. It would be easier for all of them if the unknown girl had a name.

  “You really love the lullaby you sing here, don’t you?” Molly smiled. Throughout their entire conversation, she had not taken a single step closer, had not tried to grab the girl or even touch her. That was precisely what helped her begin this dialogue. The girl nodded again, then lowered her eyes to whatever she was holding. Molly couldn’t make it out.

  “Perhaps the guardian angels truly protected you,” she said. “You’re like an angel yourself. So let your name be Angela.”

  Angela… a mysterious and strange creature who burst into the Daniels’ lives. Whether she would bring them happiness or trouble, no one yet knew. But in time, she would tell them what had happened to her…