Sophie turned the tap off.

She stood with her hands on the edge of the sink for a long moment, and then she said, without turning around:

“I was ten.”

Chapter 11 — Ninety Seconds

Here is what my daughter told me, sitting on the floor of the upstairs hallway at eleven at night, because she said she couldn’t do it in a room with a door.

She found the phone when she was ten. Not thirteen. Ten.

It was in the bottom drawer of her old dresser, under a shoebox of hair things, exactly where a terrified man had told a six-year-old to put it. She had genuinely forgotten it — that part is true — and then she was cleaning out the drawer to make room for something and there it was, and she remembered everything about the afternoon he gave it to her, all at once, standing in her bedroom in socks.