Walking up to the closet, she peeked inside. Amelia had never been good at hanging up her clothes, so there weren’t many in here. Most of the things she wore regularly ended up in the pile on the ground. But she did keep her jackets and bulky sweaters in the closet. Whitney couldn’t tell if any were missing.

She glanced at the floor. Amelia’s suitcase was gone. Whitney’s stomach bottomed out.

The floor creaked from somewhere in the distance. Holding her breath, she stood still. Was it Natalie? She listened while creeping forward. As she flicked off Amelia’s light and entered the hallway, she heard even breathing coming from the family room. Natalie must be asleep.

Another creak. It was coming from Whitney’s room.

She tiptoed forward, one hand on the wall to guide her in the darkness. She expected to be greeted by light when she opened the door to her room. It had been on when she left it. Now it was off. A breeze blew into the room, cool air brushing over Whitney’s flesh. Shuddering, she peered up at the open window.

A figure stood near Whitney’s bed, backlit by moonlight.

It only took a moment for Whitney to register that it was Lauren.

“Where’s my daughter?” Whitney stepped toward her.

Lauren held her ground. Something glinted in her hand. Shiny. Metallic.

Was it a knife?

“Tell me where she is,” Whitney demanded.

“She doesn’t want to be found,” Lauren said.

How dare Lauren talk to her like that? This girl had no right to keep her from her daughter. If Lauren knew where Amelia was, she needed to speak up now.

Lauren was backing up now, making her way to the open window. Whitney couldn’t let her get away. She lunged forward, both arms reaching out to grab her. But her hands only connected with air. Dazed, she blinked. Spun in circles.

Lauren was gone.

It didn’t make sense. She’d been standing right here. Whitney looked back at the doorway. She couldn’t have gotten past Whitney that quickly. And the window was only open slightly. Not enough to fit a person through.

Did she imagine her?

She thought of how no one knew who Lauren was.

Whitney had a strange, light-headed sensation. Lowering herself to the edge of her bed, she forced a few breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth the way Dr. Carter had taught her years ago. Her vision was swimmy as if she’d taken a few too many shots. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. When the dizziness remained, she squeezed her eyes shut.

When she woke again, her eyes met the ceiling. She was lying down on top of her comforter, head on her pillow. The light was on. Window closed.