Jack woke to a thrumming in his heart. Raven’s limbs were entangled with his, and he thought he’d do anything to stay in this warm, dark place. But his bladder protested. And so he lifted Raven’s pale brown arm from where it was draped over his body and climbed carefully off the bed.

His footsteps were silent on the carpet. The bedroom door opened with a barely audible click. Out in the hallway, the hardwood floor met Jack’s feet with a soft slapping sound, and for that he was grateful. There was something unsettling about this eerily silent house.

Something foreboding.

Jack was in and out of the bathroom in a couple of minutes. When he heard a voice coming from the first floor, he stopped to listen. Dr. Holloway was downstairs, talking to someone on the phone. That was what Jack believed at first. But when a voice responded, cutting through the silence like a knife slicing through steel, Jack went stock-still, his heart tumbling over itself.

He knew that voice. He’d heard it ringing across the orchard on evenings when Raven had pulled himself into the trees, trying to block out the sound of his parents fighting. This time, the voice coming from downstairs was anything but angry. It was pleading.

“Please,” Raven’s mother called out, causing the hairs to rise on Jack’s neck. “I can’t do this without you. I need my baby boy.”

Jack found himself at the top of the stairs. One step after another led down, down, down to the pitch-black first floor. He made his way through the hall, where new portraits had been hung since he’d last visited the house. New, but old. Over the past three years, all evidence of Arianna Holloway had been shoved into the guest rooms, until no trace of her remained in the common areas. Now her smiling face was back on the walls. If given enough time, red roses might be planted in the garden, replacing the white.

Then Evelyn would be erased.

Jack rounded the corner on silent steps, veering toward the living room. He could see a flicker of light coming from inside. Could see the silhouette of a man sitting on the couch, his shoulders hunched over with grief. But this time, Raven’s father was not watching scenes of his family’s breakfast table. This time, Arianna Holloway stood in the center of the Rose Hollow Community Pool, clad in a crimson bathing suit and calling out to her son.

“Come on, baby,” she cooed, striding toward the lip of the pool. Over on the deck, a toddler with big dark eyes stood, waffling. He dipped in a toe, then scurried backward.