In the distance she heard noises. The creak of a door as it opened. Something metal being raked across a pole. The shower curtain? No. That wasn’t it. A clothes hanger.

Feet shuffling on carpet.

Whispered voices.

“Shh, keep it down.”

Amelia?

She tried to hoist her body upward, to swim, but she was immobile, her arms and legs refusing to cooperate. Gravity won, water cocooning her. She was warm. So warm. The black nothingness beckoned her. It felt good to give in, to sink into it. To allow it to draw her farther under.

“Come on. Hurry.”

“I am.”

The voices again. Muffled. Far away.

Amelia!

Whitney flailed, grasping, clawing, but she gained no traction. Her fingers simply sliced through the water as she sunk farther. Holding her arms high above her head, her fingertips slid under the surface until she was completely submerged.

It was silent now, but she knew what she’d heard.

Her daughter. She was here.

A drawer slammed. More footsteps.

Whitney finally made it to the top, her head cresting the surface. The sounds were clearer now.

Her eyelids flung open.

Gasping, she shot up in bed. The light was on, the brightness shocking her. Blinking, as spots filled her vision. Rubbing her eyes, she wondered how long she’d been out.

The last thing Whitney remembered was putting on her pj’s after a hot shower. She’d been so tired. She’d rested her head on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Her mind had been reeling, and she was attempting to make sense of everything. She hadn’t planned to fall asleep.

Hearing movement on the other side of her wall, her shoulders stiffened.

Maybe the voices weren’t part of her dream.

Heart leaping into her throat, she slid off the bed and raced into Amelia’s room. The hallway was dark. Amelia’s door was closed. It hadn’t been earlier.

Without wasting another second, she twisted the knob and shoved the door open. It was pitch-dark. She couldn’t see a thing.

“Amelia?” She walked inside with her arms outstretched. Fingers skating across the wall, she found the light switch, then flicked it on. Yellow light flooded the room.

Empty.

Whitney sighed. She could’ve sworn she’d heard voices and movement from in here. Stepping farther in, she lifted her hand to touch the bed. Her fingertips slid over the smooth fabric. That’s when she noticed the comforter had shifted. It was straighter, the sides more even than before. Had she tweaked it when she was in here last? Maybe the police had.

But why fix the bedspread?

When she noticed the closet door was open, she racked her brain, trying to recall if it had been like that all day. She didn’t think so. A few hangers were strewn on the ground, one right in front of the closet. That for sure hadn’t been there.