But my daughter had written my name on that envelope for a reason.

She had needed me to know.

And I owed it to her, whatever it cost me, to cross the threshold she had died trying to reach me across.

Chapter 8 — Sarah

“My name is Sarah,” the woman said, and her voice was low and careful, as though she were afraid of being overheard even in an empty cemetery.

“I was your daughter’s advisor at the community college, during her freshman year.

Her senior advisor.