Once we get ourselves under control, she relaxes. “Okay. Now that the ice is sufficiently broken, what’s on your mind? You’re worried that Caitlyn’s not making any friends?”

“It’s, uh, it’s slightly crazier than that.”

She leans forward, elbows on the table.

“Intriguing. Go on.”

I proceed with my plan, which is to tell her everything, starting from the day we moved in, to Caitlyn’s ‘friend’, to our visit to the Kingsbrook Historical Society, to our game of hide-and-seek, to my discovery this afternoon of Katherine Carrington’s disappearance.

“—and that’s when I called you.”

She’s been listening in rapt attention, her mouth hanging open. For a moment, I wonder if she believes the crazy theory that has been building in the shadows of my psyche; that my daughter might be talking to a ghost. Then, her lips curl into a smile.

“That is … amazing,” she says.

“But?”

“Well, I mean, Daniel, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for all of this.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but I’m having a hard time finding it. How could she have just happened to pick the name of a girl that lived in that house, who disappeared over a hundred years ago for her imaginary friend?”

Denise ponders it over a sip of her cappuccino.

“She could have seen something at the historical society. Maybe she saw Katherine’s name in a photo or an article.”

“But she’s had the imaginary friend since right after we moved in, and that was days before we went to the historical society.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t use the name ‘Katherine’ until last night, right?”

“Yes … I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”

“So, she had the imaginary friend, which isn’t unusual at all, and then decided it was Katherine after seeing something at the historical society, or maybe she saw something about it online, like you did.”

My anxiety is quickly evolving into embarrassment. As it grows, I look down at the table to avoid making eye contact with her.

“Doesn’t that sound more likely than your daughter talking to and you seeing a ghost?”

She’s being nice and I’m an idiot. Here is a grown adult telling me that there are no monsters under the bed.

I shake my head. “I am so sorry that I called you out here.”

“No! No! It’s okay.”

“You have to think that I’m crazy.”

“Not at all! Daniel, raising her on your own, after what happened, a new town, you said you’re not sleeping, and if you’ll excuse me for saying, but you look it. Something like this was bound to happen.”

“I appreciate you letting me off easy, but I’ve wasted your time.”