A child. Standing behind her. A small girl in a white nightgown, her face indistinct, holding a patent leather shoe.
As the footsteps arrived at the door, the last thing Eliza saw was her reflection splitting in two: one version screaming, the other smiling, holding the door open for Arthur. 6 alexandra view
Eliza’s blood turned to ice. The house plans she’d found in the county archives flashed through her mind. There was no attic. The roof was a flat, decorative cap. Yet the footsteps grew louder, coming down… down… toward the locked room door. A child
Her aunt, Lydia, had vanished from this very porch. No note. No struggle. Just a dropped watering can and a single, patent leather shoe. her face indistinct