Ironically, she had reminded me of Nicole’s ring, which was still sitting on the dining-room table. I almost went in to grab it. I started to go through the door, but was stopped by what sounded like a little girl crying at the top of the stairs.

I turned around, walked out, and shut the door behind me.

*

It was late, and I could have gotten us a hotel, but for some reason, I felt safer being on the move in the car. It had followed Caitlyn to school. I worried that it might find us if we stopped, so I kept driving.

As we aimlessly drove around Kingsbrook, I tried to get her to talk.

“Caitlyn, you have to tell me what happened to Katherine.”

“I told you, and you didn’t believe me.”

“I know, pumpkin, and I’m sorry, but I need to know, right now.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled.

“Caitlyn, please.”

She looked at the back seat. “Can I lie down?”

I couldn’t put her through any more. Not tonight. “Okay.”

She clumsily climbed to the back seat and lay down. She was out in no time.

I continued driving around Kingsbrook. I drove through the town square, past La Piazza, where only forty-eight hours ago, Denise and I had had a wonderful dinner. God, only forty-eight hours ago?

At last, I decided that I had to pull over. I wasn’t tired but I worried that I wouldn’t know I was tired until I smashed the car into a tree.

I found an overlook in the surrounding hills, parked, and now I’m watching the sun come up. Most of the buildings and homes in Kingsbrook are silent shadows, but some of the lights in the windows are starting to come to life.

To the sound of Caitlyn’s snoring, I try to think of what comes next.

One thing is certain; she is never going back in that house. Ever.

*

The sun finally clears the cedars, oaks, and pines.

I know what I’m going to do. I’ve just been waiting to call until I was certain that she would be up.

She answers on the third ring.

“Daniel!” Mildred sings into the other end of the phone. “You’re up early. Want to grab some coffee on the porch? I’ve got a new blend from that shop on the square—”

“Mildred, I need your help.”

*

An hour later, we pull into Mildred’s driveway. Caitlyn stares at the Nightingale House and gives me a look of panic. I reassuringly shake my head.

Mildred’s waiting on her porch. She forces a smile as we walk up.

“Hi, sweetie,” she says, gently stroking Caitlyn’s hair.

“Hi, Mildred,” Caitlyn yawns.

“Let me take your things.”

Caitlyn hands off her duffel bag and Mildred carries it inside.

I crouch down to Caitlyn. “It’s only for a little bit, okay?”

She nods.