At exactly one o’clock in the morning, Luke’s snoring gave Addison the green light she’d been waiting over two hours for. He was asleep. Time to put her plan into action. Part of her hesitated for a brief moment. She regretted sneaking out of the house this late at night without telling him. It almost felt like a betrayal, like she was going behind his back, even though she wasn’t. Or maybe she was. Either way, her intentions were good. She meant well. She knew what had to be done, knew the potential danger. She also knew it was something she’d be glad she did alone if it all went wrong.
The tires on Addison’s car crunched along the dirt driveway until she made it onto the road, her eyes still fixed on the second-story window of the room she’d walked out of not two minutes before. The lights were still off. He was still asleep. A positive sign.
Twenty-nine minutes later she flicked the car’s headlamps off, inching to a stop in front of a vacant lot next to Rosecliff Manor. She ducked between two bowed iron rods in the gate, slid through, and made her way to the back of the house. Twisting the mini-flashlight to “on,” she beamed the tiny light across the yard, scanning the area. Earlier she’d spotted a ladder leaning next to the shed out back. It was long enough for her to climb to the second-story window, the same window she’d managed to crack open when no one was looking during the tour earlier.
Ladder in hand, she lined it up with the window and began her ascent. With Rose’s bedroom located on the main floor and the attic on the third, she could only pray she could get in and out without arousing suspicion. Four steps up, the flashlight slipped from her hand, clanking on one of the ladder’s steps before breaking apart on the ground. Addison froze. How far had the sound traveled? Far enough to wake a neighbor? Far enough to wake up Rose?
Several minutes passed in silence, the only source of light coming from a partially clouded moon. She took a step, then another. She reached the top, slid open the window, and climbed inside. Flattening her body against the wall, she inched her way to the room’s edge. She rounded the corner and began her second climb of the night, this time on the narrow steps leading to the attic.
The attic door felt as solid as it was wide. Using the tip of her finger to find the keyhole, she dug her other hand inside her pocket, slid the key all the way inside the hole, and turned it. The lock didn’t click, but when she pressed forward, the door cracked open, filtering a musty combination of dust and grime. She pressed her nose to the sleeve of her jacket to quench the desire to gag.
She reached out a hand, feeling her way along the wall for a light switch. There wasn’t one, and without her flashlight to guide her, she had little choice.
In a hush, she said, “Vivian, if you’re here, show yourself. Please.”
Silence.
“Vivian, please. I’m here to help. I remember now.”
A delicate child’s voice answered, “Do you know how to help us?”
The voice was Vivian’s.
“I’d like to try,” Addison said. “I need to talk to you and your sister about what happened the night of your parents’ party.”
“Close the curtains.”
To Addison, it seemed a far-out request. “What?”
“Close the curtains so no one can see inside.”
“I can’t. I don’t know where they are.”
“Straight in front of you. Walk slow. You’ll get there.”
Addison took several steps forward. She reached the other side of the room and waved a hand across the air until the she felt the cold, hard glass in front of her. She stretched both arms out to the side, curled the edges of the pleated cotton fabric in her fist, and drew the curtains closed.
She turned.
A faint orb of light illuminated the room, soft and dull at first. An image shaped to life a few feet from where she stood.
Vivian looked at Addison then turned, her eyes coming to rest on a coat closet. “It’s okay. You can come out. We talked about this. You know it’s what we have to do now.”
“Is … Grace inside the closet?” Addison asked.
Vivian nodded. “I thought she’d come out this time, but she won’t.”
“Can I try?”
Vivian shrugged. “Guess so.”
Addison bent down in front of the closet door but didn’t open it. “Grace, if you can hear me, please know you don’t have to be afraid. It’s okay. I want to help you. You and Vivian both.”
No reply.
“I’m going to open the door to the closet and back away,” Addison said. “You come out whenever you’re ready.”
Addison grasped the round, wooden knob in her hand and tugged the door back, waiting until it was three quarters of the way open before she peeked around the door’s corner. “She’s not here. Where did she go?”
Vivian shrugged. “She disappears sometimes. She’s probably somewhere in the house. Maybe with Mama. She likes to watch her when she sleeps.”
Addison knelt in front of Vivian. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“Do you mean, do I know I’m dead?”
Addison nodded.
“Yes. I know.”
“Does Grace know?”
“I think so. She doesn’t like to talk about the night we died.”
“Because of what happened?” Addison asked. “What really happened?”
Vivian nodded. “And because Grace is scared to leave. She won’t, so we’re stuck here.”
“Could you move on if you wanted to, without Grace?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t tried. Even if I could, I’d never leave her here alone.”
“You’re a good sister, Vivian.”
Vivian tilted her head to the side. “How can you see us? No one else can.”
“When I was a little girl, younger than you, I received a gift.”
“A present?”
“No, not the kind you open. It lets me see people like you even though you’re not alive anymore.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure how it happens. I just know I see the people I’m supposed to see when I’m supposed to see them. In my family, the gift passes down from mother to daughter when we’re five. Only, my mother didn’t use her gift, and when it passed to me, she didn’t want me to use mine either.”
“Why not?”
“She had a bad experience as a child. She didn’t understand she could help people trying to move on from this life to the next.”
“Like the woman in the pink dress? The one buried in the cemetery?”
Addison raised a brow, surprised. “Like her, yes. How do you know about Roxy?”
“She waved at me. She said you were a nice lady and not to be afraid to talk to you because you could help me.”
Two thoughts occurred to Addison simultaneously. First, the day she saw Vivian and Grace at the cemetery, Vivian might not have been waving at her but at Roxy. Second, maybe that’s how it worked. After one person moved on, they chose who she helped next. “Vivian, what do you remember about the night you died, about when you and Grace were playing in the attic?”
“It’s hard for me.”
“What’s hard?”
“Remembering.”
“Why?” Addison asked.
“The longer we’re here, the more I forget.”
“I need you to try for me. Okay?”
Vivian nodded. Addison continued.
“On the night of your parents’ party, you were sent away after dinner. Then what happened?”
“Grace heard someone in the attic, and Mama said no one was allowed in there without her permission.”
“Why not?”
“It’s where she kept all the special stuff. The things she didn’t want us to play with.”
“So the two of you decided to go to the attic and check it out.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who did you see when you got up there?”
“Boys.”
“What boys?”
“I don’t know. Their faces are blurry now. I try to see them sometimes, try to remember, and I can’t.”
Had Vivian blocked out all of her memories because they were too painful to see?
“Can you remember how many boys were in the attic?” Addison asked.
“Two. Wait, three. I think.”
“Were they your age—older, younger?”
“They were … taller than me, I think.”
“So they were older. How much older?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who opened the attic window?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“It was hot. We were sweaty from playing the game.”
“What game?”
“Hide-and-seek.”
Addison glanced around the room, noting the size. It was equivalent to a classroom in an elementary school. And sparse. With the exception of the coat closet, only a few boxes of toys remained. None big enough to hide inside. “There aren’t a lot of places to hide in here.”
“It used to be filled with stuff. Mama took it all out.”
“When you were playing, who took Grace’s doll and threw it onto the roof?”
Vivian’s face scrunched up, and she uttered two words that would change everything. “What doll?”