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Lauren’s car remained outside.
My pulse began racing.
When I returned to the hallway, Bennett stood exactly where I had left him.
“Bennett,” I asked gently, “where’s Aunt Lauren?”
He stared at the floor.
“I… I don’t know.”
That made no sense.
Lauren would never leave him alone.
I crouched in front of him and rested my hands lightly on his shoulders.
His lower lip trembled.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she go outside?”
He shook his head.
“Did someone come to the house?”
His eyes moved toward the hallway again.
Then I noticed a narrow line of light beneath his bedroom door.
Bennett was careful about switching lights off because Lauren had convinced him every bulb left burning cost me a fortune.
Then I heard another sound.
It was so faint I nearly missed it.
A low whisper.
Then the sound of something heavy scraping across the floor.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Bennett’s small fingers continued trembling.
“Mom… please.”
“They said you’d be angry if you found out.”
My heart hammered.
They.
Not she.
Not he.
They.
Bennett followed me for one step before stopping.
The whispering ended abruptly.
The bedroom became completely silent.
I closed my hand around the doorknob and opened the door several inches.
Then I froze.
The first person I saw was Lauren.
She crouched beside Bennett’s bed with one hand covering her mouth.
The second was a man I had not seen in eight years.
My father.
He appeared older than I remembered. His dark hair had become almost entirely gray, and his shoulders looked narrower beneath his brown coat.
An open cardboard box rested near his feet.
Beside him, Lauren had pulled Bennett’s toy chest away from the wall.
That had caused the scraping noise.
“Dad?” I whispered.
My father slowly stood.
“Ingrid.”
The sound of my name in his voice tightened something inside me.
He used to say it that way when I was a child, usually before apologizing for another broken promise.
“What are you doing here?”
