“My grandfather was a sad man … At least he was when I knew him. He was broken. Towards the end of his life, he lived with our family. My parents and me. It was awful. He was going crazy. He would mumble all the time in his room. He kept shouting in his sleep. One night, I was outside the door, trying to hear what he was saying and it sounded like, ‘She can’t sleep. She can’t sleep.’ Other times, he would just cry. The older he got, the worse it got. The littlest things upset him. It was like he would see something or someone who wasn’t there and he would apologize, over and over. Finally, my parents decided that he couldn’t live with us anymore. They made arrangements for him to stay at an asylum. The night before he left, I was outside his room, again, just listening to him mumble and cry. It got quiet, and then, all of a sudden, he opened the door, grabbed me, and pulled me into the room. I was scared out of my mind. He took me by the shoulders and kept saying, ‘She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.’ I asked him, ‘Who?’ and he kept saying, ‘Katherine can’t sleep! Katherine can’t sleep!’ I started crying and that snapped him out of it. He said, ‘I’m going to tell you something and you can never tell anyone.’ I only wanted out of that room, so I said yes. He said, ‘That girl was never there.’ I asked him, ‘What girl?’ but he was so upset that he didn’t answer. Then he said that Thomas Carrington had given him a thousand dollars to tell the police that she had been with them at the train station. Carrington said that if he didn’t, he’d ruin him, but the daughter was never there.”