“Listen,” she says, lowering her voice. “You really look like shit. Literally, you look like a spent turd in a chair. Let me take her off your hands for one night. You can have the house to yourself. Get some sleep or, better yet, go out. Whatever you need to do.”

After a brief consideration, I have to admit that it sounds like a great idea.

“You sure?” I ask.

Mildred nods and turns back to Caitlyn, who is still waiting for an answer.

“You bet your cutie little booty. Tuesday night, we’re having a Girls’ Night.”

Caitlyn excitedly splashes. “Okay!”

“Thank you, Mildred,” I say. “That’s incredibly kind.”

She waves me off. “It’ll be fun. I would offer to take her tonight or Monday, but I may have a gentleman caller.”

*

That night, I’m tucking Caitlyn into bed by the soft glow of the night-light.

“Are you excited to stay over at Mildred’s on Tuesday?”

She nods, exhausted from playing in the lake.

I kneel beside the bed and stroke her hair. Her little medallion rests on the nightstand.

“Are you liking school?”

She nods, again. “I really like Ms. Hancourt.”

“Good. Are you making friends?”

“I made one friend.”

This is the first mention of a new friend since we moved.

“Really? Is she in your class?”

“No, but she follows me to school sometimes.”

“Oh … Does she live in town?”

“No. She lives here.”

“Here? What do you mean?”

“In our house. She’s the one I told you about. She’s happy we’re here, because she hasn’t had anyone to play with in a long time.”

My heart sinks. It’s back. Since that night with the necklace, she hasn’t mentioned her imaginary friend. I thought it was over. Now, she’s retreating into make-believe, again.

“This is your imaginary friend?”

“She’s real. She stays in my closet.”

I glance over at the closed closet doors. “Is she in there right now?”

She glances over my shoulder and an odd smile plays on her lips.

“No.”

“Oh … Then, where is she?”

“She’s behind you.”

It’s the certainty with which she said it that’s causing the goosebumps to race across my skin. I know that it’s the power of her suggestion, but it suddenly feels like there is someone standing behind me—and I can’t turn around. It would only encourage her behavior.

“Okay,” I say, quietly. “That’s enough for tonight.” I kiss her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

I lean back and her eyes are already closed.

I stand, motionless. Finally, unable to resist, I turn around.

A man is staring at me.

I catch my scream mid-throat. It’s my own reflection, staring at me from the mirror of Caitlyn’s vanity.