niable fact in my hand. Lily' s drawing. The sun she had drawn in the

y sweet, s

a had been there that day, and I always had a cold feeling about it, a suspicion I could never prove.

o the waistband of my jeans, the corner digg

to fin

in the kitchen, their voices a low murmur. I slipped ou

houses were old, the paint peeling, the yards overgrown. A handful of people were out, sweeping po

bborn weed. "Have you seen a little girl? About ten

She wiped her hands on her apron a

"Haven' t seen any little

to her weed, a

ing on a bench, an old woman watering her roses. The answer was al

of ghosts. They were all in on it.

I saw

ung man at all. He was a dwarf, with the wizened face of someone much older and kind, sad eyes.

ime, I didn't see emptiness in someone's eyes. I

eaking. "You have to help me.

thing, just kept h

is Lily. Sh

woods where an old, dilapidated building stood. It looked like

ow, rough whisper, "things that get

his chin towar

arked in my chest. Before I could ask

liv

s marching toward me, h

out here? You' re sup

, her fingers digg

y daughter," I said

ice sharp enough to cut. "You are embarrassi

d back at the man on the wall, but he was gon

iel was waiting. He ha

p for me to see. "Look. Look

ugh the gallery. Pictures of me and Daniel. Pictures of la

no L

school pictures from her bookshelf, the family portrait on the mantelpiece, the snapshots I kept

slipping from my numb fingers. "The pict

el said, his voice dripping with false

waistband felt l

hought of