“Angels in training. It hasn’t been that long since they were human, and they still get hungry. We’re having bratwurst and beans.”

Hannah smiled. “That was your favorite meal to make for us when Mother was gone.”

“That was because it was easy. Throw the sausage on the grill and heat a can of beans.”

“But all of us loved it. We loved your chicken, beef, turkey noodle soup, too.”

“Three cans of soup thrown in a pot and heated together. It was easy, too. It’s not like I made the soup from scratch.”

“But that’s okay. It was good and we always had it with oyster crackers. All three of us loved the fact that you cared enough to cook for us.”

“Of course I did. I still do. You never lose the love, Hannah. It survives forever.”

Hannah blinked back the tears that had formed in her eyes. It was wonderful to know that her dad still loved her.

“Uh-oh. They just called me. It’s time for your peek into the present, Hannah. Watch this.”

As Hannah watched, the movie screen materialized and images appeared. It was morning in Lake Eden and she was walking down the street toward Florence’s Red Owl Grocery. She didn’t go inside the grocery store. She stopped by the door to Danielle’s dance studio. There was a pretty wreath hanging on the inside of the glass door, and Hannah took a moment to admire it. Then she opened the door and began to climb the long, carpeted staircase.

The scene shifted to the reception area, and Hannah found herself sitting there, waiting for Danielle to finish with her class. Then Danielle came out and the scene shifted again to Danielle’s tiny kitchen, the same kitchen Hannah and Michelle had visited less than twenty-four hours ago. This time, Michelle wasn’t there. And then Hannah was leaving, going down the carpeted stairs. She stopped at the door to the street, pulled out her murder book and turned to the suspect page. She took a moment to jot down a name.

“That’s all,” her father said and Hannah squinted, trying to read the name that was still faintly visible on the screen, but the screen went blank before she could decipher the letters. Her glimpse into the present was over.

“Remember, Hannah. You must remember this tomorrow. It’s very important.”

“Yes, Dad. I’ll try to remember. Really, I will.”

“I know. I love you, Honey-bear. I’m hoping they’ll let me come back one final time to visit you. Until then . . .”

Hannah watched as her father’s shape flickered and morphed into the bluish-white cloud again. The cloud moved, closer, closer, and then it surrounded her and she felt a kiss on her forehead. “Dad,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Don’t go, Dad! Please!”

“I must, Honey-bear. They’re calling me. Just try to remember . . . remember . . . remember . . .”