Then I noticed a teenage backpack beside the stairs.
A denim jacket hung over a chair.
A pair of sneakers sat near the door.
“Does Claire have a sister?”
“Whose stuff is that?”
Margaret wiped at her face.
“Margaret.”
Still nothing.
I looked toward the stairs. “Does Claire have a sister? Someone she never told me about?”
Robert shook his head.
“Then who lives across the street?”
“You told her, didn’t you?”
Before either of them could answer, the front door flew open behind me.
Claire rushed inside, breathless, her face white.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
Margaret stood. “Claire…”
“Where is she?” Claire screamed. “You told her, didn’t you? You told her before I could…”
She stopped when she saw me. The room went silent.
“Who?” I asked.
“There was an accident.”
Claire stared at her parents.
“Her name is Emma,” Margaret whispered.
“Who is Emma?”
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