The girl flinched and pulled back against the glass, like I might hit her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice rough and thin. “Please don’t let them hear me. They’ll find me if they know I came.”

What Chloe Saw

I stopped a few feet from her, afraid that if I reached out too fast she would disappear like smoke.

“Who?” I asked, my voice hoarse. “Chloe, who are you hiding from? What happened?”

Her eyes darted to the door, then to the hallway, listening for footsteps only she could hear.

“Vanessa,” she said, the name barely audible. “And Uncle Colby.”

I froze.

My wife. My brother.

The two people who had held me up while everything else fell apart. The ones who arranged the service, who stood beside me at the front of the chapel, who greeted every guest with tears in their eyes and hands folded over their hearts. The ones who told me, over and over, that I had to let her go.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said, shaking my head. “They’ve been here every day. They’ve been the ones taking care of me, of everything. They arranged—”

“The service,” Chloe whispered, her voice suddenly sharp, like broken glass. “It wasn’t real, Dad. They planned all of it. The fire. The story. Everything.”

I stared at her.