“What girl? You must have mistaken me for someone,” I said automatically. “My daughter is dead.”
There was a pause on the line.
“She says her name is ‘Grace,’” Frank continued. “And she looks remarkably like the photo we still have in our student database.”
My heart started beating so hard it hurt.
—That’s impossible.
—She’s very upset. Please, just talk to her.
Then I heard a small, trembling voice.
—Mommy? Mommy, please come get me?
The phone slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. It was his voice.
Neil came into the kitchen holding his coffee cup. He froze when he saw my face and the phone on the tile.
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