When Luke walked through the front door to see if Addison needed anything, he found her lying flat on the couch, covered with a blanket, staring at the ceiling. “Where’s your father?”
She propped herself up on one elbow and turned. “I put him in the bedroom next to mine upstairs.”
“Do you think that’s…safe? What if he gets a visit from a not-so-friendly ghost? How are you going to explain?”
She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. He’s determined to stay here until after I’ve seen my grandmother.”
“Wait a minute, isn’t she—”
“Dead?” Addison finished for him. “Apparently not.”
She relayed the conversation she had with her father earlier.
“And the weird gets weirder,” he said when she’d finished. “You nervous to meet her?”
She sat up. “I don’t know what I am right now.”
He sat down beside her. “What happened out there in the woods? Why weren’t you with your bike when I found you?”
“I have no idea. I keep thinking about it. I remember leaving the house. I could hear an owl somewhere nearby. I was following the trail, even though I had no idea where it would lead. Then I woke up with bruises, scratches, and a broken arm. I tried to stand up. I couldn’t.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t think about it.”
“What are you saying?”
“In my experience, when you let go of something, that’s when it comes back to you. The harder you try to force yourself to remember, the bigger the resistance.”
“I’ll try that,” she said. “I need to get cleaned up anyway.”
“Why?”
“I imagine I look—”
“Beautiful,” he said. “You look beautiful.”
Her cell phone rang, breaking the awkward silence between them.
“Is this Addison Lockhart?” said a female voice on the other end.
The woman on the other end of the line verified herself as Detective Ross.
“Are you calling about the dress?” Addison asked. “I can bring it in tomorrow if that’s okay.”
“Dress?”
“Yes. I’d like to stay while it’s tested. I’d rather not come home without it.” Addison knew it was a stretch. She didn’t know if the results would take hours or days, and if blood was found on the dress, there was little chance she’d get it back—ever. That meant if she was going to touch it again, it had to be now. But how, with her father next door? There was no guarantee what might happen. It was a risk, but at this point, it was one she was willing to take.
“What dress?” the detective asked, again.
“I’m sorry—you’re calling about something else?”
“I heard you were trying to get in touch with the men who worked the Roxanne Rafferty case.”
“I don’t understand? He was already here. He came yesterday.”
“Who?” Detective Ross asked.
“Detective Houston.”
Another pause. “Ma’am, Detective Houston died several years ago.”
It wasn’t possible.
“Are you sure you have the names right?”
Addison heard a shuffling sound in the background. “I’ve got the paperwork here. Says Detective Houston is dead and Dobbs is in a wheelchair at Mortimer Retirement Home.”
“The man who came here walked around my house and talked to me about what he remembered when he worked the case.”
“Ma’am, listen to me carefully. Dobbs is the only one still alive, and he has Alzheimer’s. So, it wasn’t him. Whoever came to your house isn’t who he says he is. I’d like you to come in and fill out a police report.”
The phone slipped from Addison’s hands in front of a confused Luke, who watched it fall to the floor, the screen shattering.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.
Addison turned and raced up the stairs, not stopping until she reached her room. She reached for the box beneath her bed, relieved when she found it. Luke followed close behind. “Addison, what’s going on?”
She lifted the lid. The dress was gone.